


At Last

by SPowell



Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slash, post SR
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 12:12:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/393715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SPowell/pseuds/SPowell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hutch is ready to begin a new kind of relationship with Starsky.</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Last

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nancys_soul](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nancys_soul).



> Special thanks to zandras_court for read-over.  
> I just can't seem to write a short story...this one wasn't going to be very long, and look what happened!

**At Last**

**By Susannah Powell**

**Post SR, slash, angst, h/c, NC-17**

**Special thanks to zandras_court for the read-over.**

 

 

Out of the jumble of sounds, some loud, some not, I zero in on one. Starsky is crying. I can count the amount of times I’ve seen my partner cry on one hand and still play my guitar with the remaining fingers. What I can’t figure out is _why_ he’s crying. It’s so frustrating. I want to ask him, but I can’t speak. I want to comfort him, but I can’t move. And I don’t know why that is, either. All I know is my best buddy is very, very sad.

As time passes, I come to realize that I must be sick or something. Did I get shot? I don’t think so, but I do remember a lot of pain and discomfort. I still hurt. It hurts to breathe, and breathing seems to be the only motion I’m capable of.

I hear sounds. Hospital sounds. I’ve been in the hospital enough times to recognize the beeping of a heart monitor, the _swoosh_ of the respirator. Ah, so that’s why I’m breathing. A respirator. That’s probably not a good sign.

Occasionally I feel a hand on mine. A squeeze of my fingers. I want to squeeze back so badly, but even though I try my hardest, I can’t do it.

Gradually other sensations force their way into my consciousness. Tape pulling at the skin of my face. The uncomfortable fullness of a catheter. The choking invasion of a respirator.

Every time the pain gets so bad I think I can’t handle it anymore, I can hear Starsky talking to the nurse. I’m not sure how he knows, but he always does. Then I’ll hear a female voice and a minute or two later there will be blessed relief and a wonderful, floating darkness that surrounds me.

That’s what’s happening again. My body pounds with the pain. All over. I try to move; maybe a muscle twitches, I don’t know. I hear Starsky immediately.

_“Buddy? You okay? You hurtin’?”_

I try to convey something to him, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t move this shell I’m stuck in. I manage to roll my eyes around under the lids, and Starsky must notice, because I hear him call for the nurse.

_“He’s hurting.”_

_“How can you possibly know that, Detective Starsky?”_

_“I’m tellin’ ya, I just know.”_

_“He’s in a coma.”_

_“But if he’s hurting, you gotta help him! Give him something.”_

Why won’t the damn nurse listen to him? I feel like a hundred devils with tiny, hot pitchforks are poking me in all my internal organs, setting them on fire one by one. Starsky continues to argue with the nurse. My partner the bulldog; he just won’t let up. But soon my attention is completely taken away from what they’re saying by the terrible waves of of excruciating agony. I try to speak. Maybe I groan, I don’t know, but I’m fucking frustrated lying here unable to say or do a thing for myself while the torture intensifies.

A loud beeping in my ears is driving me crazy, and it just gets louder and louder until I feel like my head’s going to explode from the sound of it. I hear snatches of speech.

_“What’s happening?”_

_“…racing…highly agitated…..see if this…”_

The red hot fire that's got me in its grip squeezes out sound until all I know is a plane of white, and then a blanket of warmth starts somewhere in my arm and oozes inward. After that, all I know is blackness and blessed relief.

A point comes where everything isn’t just blank anymore, and I think I start to dream. Or maybe I’m remembering. Yes, snippets of gunshots and worry, and hospital vigils. Anger, and Gunther, and revenge. An all-consuming thankfulness. Love, tenderness. Pieces of those months during Starsky’s rehabilition when everything just seemed to click together for me.

How long do I relive these things? Is it days or only moments? There’s no way for me to tell, but at some point I am aware of the removal of the respirator. It feels so good to be free of it and to breathe on my own. My body feels more pliant, and I can jerk my fingers and twitch my mouth. Starsky talks nonstop to me, trying to get me to open my eyes, but I still can’t do that. I want so much to please him that I try my hardest, but it’s no use.

I hear Dobey’s voice, and Huggy’s. Linda Baylor’s and Minnie’s. Kiko’s. A couple of others I know I should recognize, but I can’t put a name to them. It bothers me that I can’t respond, and Starsky seems to know this, for he tells me that I don’t have to worry. All I need to do is get better.

But what’s wrong with me? I still don’t know that. I think, if I concentrate on that question long enough, my partner will tell me.

I dream…

_Starsky wears one of his old pairs of jeans, the ones that fit him like a second skin, and I find myself wanting to touch him. He’s alive and whole, and our connection is stronger than it’s ever been. We’re sitting outside this little Italian restaurant we go to sometimes. Starsky’s been back at work for a few months now. We’ve hit our old stride. All the worrying about how it would be, for both of us, has been unfounded, because it’s just like it used to be, and we both feel it._

_I drink my beer and watch Starsky’s profile. He’s gazing at something in the distance, and I notice how thick his eyelashes are. It feels silly to be thinking this way about him, but it’s been happening for a while now. I’m getting used to it. I wonder if it’s changed for him, too._

_“What’re you thinking about?” he asks me._

_“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” I say. There’s a cool breeze blowing, and I can smell the beach. His eyes are boring into mine, and I think about telling him what I’ve been keeping back for so long._

This is where the dream ends. I dream it over and over again between bouts of pain and drug-induced relief.

_“Hutch…Babe. Open your eyes for me. Come on, you can do it.”_

I want to, Buddy, but it’s just too hard.

  _“You’re doing better, Hutch. Much better. You’re off the respirator, and I can tell you hear me.”_

What’s wrong with me, Starsk? What happened to me?

I can feel Starsky’s artist’s fingers touching my face. That’s the way I’ve always thought about his fingers, even though the closest he’s ever gotten to art is photography. His fingers are long and delicate, and his touch is gentle and loving. His fingers smooth my mustache and then comb through my hair.

 _“How about a shave?”_ I hear him ask. _“I promise I’ll leave the mustache alone.”_

I am lulled to sleep by his comforting monologue. Next thing I know I’m aware of the smell of shaving cream and the scrape of a razor. Starsky’s humming some song I’ve heard on the radio--something about a dog named Boo. A warm, wet towel wipes the remnants of lotion away.

_“There. You look really handsome now, not that you weren’t gorgeous before. You know, Hutch, I really need you to get better so you can come back to work. You know I hate desk work, and there ain’t no way I’m working with another partner. Come on, Pal, I need you to wake up and forgive me for whatever it was I said…I upset you somehow…made you run off, and then, well, look what happened to you.”_

What did happen to me, Starsk? I feel like shit. I wish I knew what’s going on. I’m scared, Buddy.

Starsky’s hand takes mine, and he squeezes. I try really hard to open my eyes, and there’s blurry light.

 _“Hutch? Hutch?”_ Starsky’s hand tightens on mine. _“Hey! Hey, there! Can you see me? God, I gotta get the nurse, but I don’t wanna leave you!”_ Some fumbling around. _“Call button, yeah, what a dummy I am, but you don’t know how excited I am, Hutch! It’s been four days! God, Buddy, you scared me to death.”_

Starsky doesn’t let go of my hand, even when I hear the door open. Someone starts messing with me, lifting my eyelids wider and taking my pulse. I want to pull away. I’ve never liked people touching me. Except for Starsky, that is. It’s always been different with Starsky. His touch has always been acceptable, needed, wanted. Now I can’t tell which it is more, needed or wanted. I want it more than anything, and I need it like air.

These thoughts bring an uncomfortable feeling. A niggling at the back of my mind.

_“Why’re you frowning, Buddy? You feeling okay?”_

Suddenly, my energy is zapped, and I just want to sleep. Comforting darkness pulls me under, and soon I have the dream again.

This time when Starsky asks me what I’m thinking and I tell him he wouldn’t believe me, the dream continues. He persists.

_“Come on. You got such a nice expression on your face. What is it?”_

_I just shake my head, and Starsky grins. “Okay, Blintz. If you won’t tell me your secret, I’ll tell ya mine.” He shifts in his chair. “You remember Shelia?”_

_I think about it. “You mean the chick that moved to Ohio?”_

_“Yep.” Starsky nods and picks a piece of lint off my shirt. A little of his musky aftershave wafts on the breeze and reaches my nose. “She’s moved back. We went out last night. She told me she moved back because of me. I think we’ve got something special going, Hutch. Real special. She just might be the lady I’ve been waiting for.”_

_The waiter shows up then, and we order, although I have no idea what I ask for. There’s a buzzing in my ears that won’t go away. Starsky starts talking to me again, and I think I manage to answer him, but all I can think is that I lost my chance._

_Lost it. Lost it. Lost it._

_I mumble something about having to be somewhere and get up, walking blindly around the tables and out onto the street, just wanting to escape, because I’m afraid I might do something very bad, like fall apart in front of Starsky.  Suddenly, there’s a very loud noise—a blaring horn---it echoes in my brain as I try to surface._

I wake up, and I know. I know it happened just that way. It isn’t a dream; it’s a memory. A terrible, awful memory. This is one of those times when Starsky isn’t here. He’s had to go back to work, I remember him telling me that. I open my eyes and things are less fuzzy than last time. I can make out the room. There’s someone here, and it isn’t my partner, and it isn’t the nurse or doctor. I try to focus.

_“Sweetheart? It’s Mom. Oh, it’s so wonderful to see your eyes! Don’t you worry, I’m here now. Everything’s going to be okay.”_

I drift off again.

I don’t dream anymore.

***

“God, Hutch, I can’t tell you how scared I was! You just stepped out in that street, and the next thing I knew, that truck clipped you, and you went flying onto the median.” Starsky’s been bouncing around my room for the past few days. We haven’t had a lot of time to talk, as my mother’s been here the whole time, and Dobey’s had Starsky doing research on some case that’s got him working overtime. Shelia came with him the last time he stopped by. Evidently, he’d insisted they drop in and check on me on the way to the movie they were going to see.

Shelia’s a nice girl, and I did my best to smile and act happy for them. God knows it ought to be enough for me to have Starsky back after Gunther’s hit, but it still hurts knowing that what I thought we were headed for was just in my crazy head. Lying in this bed with a concussion, cracked ribs, a broken arm, broken leg, and countless bumps and bruises has given me a lot of time to think, and I’ve decided what I’m going to do.

“Why in the hell did you get up and run off for, anyway? Do you remember?” Starsky’s looking at me so openly and with such affection. The man wears his heart on his sleeve. God, I love him so much, and I know it’s no use; I can’t go back.

I shake my head slowly, because it still hurts. “I-it’s all just a blur.”

“Well, maybe you’ll remember later. The doc says it won’t be long until you’re outta here. I’ll come and stay with ya, and you’ll be good as new before you know it.”

I clear my throat. “Starsk, there’s something I’ve got to tell you.”

“Yeah, what?” Starsky perches on the edge of my bed.

“I—I’ve decided to go back to Minnesota with Mom. She wants to take care of me.”

Starsky blinks several times. He looks down at his hands and then back at me, his eyes intensely blue. “Is that what you wanna do? I mean, I hope you know I don’t mind helping you out. You did everything for me when I got out of the hospital.”

I look away because I just can’t hold the eye contact. “I know. I just think I should go.”

I hear rather than see Starsky swallow. “O’kay, well. How long you gonna be gone?”

This is the hard part. “I don’t know, Starsk.” I still can’t look at him.

“You thinking about staying until the leg cast comes off? Taking extended sick leave or something?”

I look down at my hands resting on the blue hospital blanket. It takes me a long time to say it. “I don’t know if I’ll be coming back.”

In a lightning move, Starsky’s hand covers mine. I stare at it, studying his rings. The other hand touches my chin, bringing it up and forcing me to meet his gaze head-on.

“What the hell are you talking about, Hutch?” he demands in a quiet, controlled voice.

It takes everything in me to answer calmly. To lie.

“I just think—I need to spend time with my family. I’ve just been having second thoughts about the job. Even before you were shot, you know that, Starsk. Of course I’ll be coming back…of course I will. It just may be a while.”

The expression on Starsky’s face tears me apart. He looks shaken, upset, and worst of all, abandoned. And then I can see the moment when his thoughts turn from himself to me. My needs. And his face softens.

“It’s been really hard on you, hasn’t it? Worrying about me and nursin’ me back to health all those months like you did.” He squeezes my hand. “I totally understand you needing some time to yourself. I doubt Dobey’ll let me stay on desk duty for long, though.”

My gut clenches just thinking about Starsky with another partner. One that might not watch his back like he should. One that will get to share every little minute of the day with him. But I’ve got to put away thoughts like that, or I’ll never be able to make the break. I lie to him again.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be that long.”

Starsky accepts that, grins, and rebounds just like he always does. Before long he’s joking about how my mom’s going to baby me so much, I’ll probably be back before the cast is off.

I tell him he’s probably right.

I’m getting really good at lying to him.

***

The evening before I check out of the hospital, Starsky and Shelia come by to see me.

“I’ll water your plants while you’re gone,” Starsky tells me. Sheila sits on his lap, her hand at the V of his shirt, fingers toying with the swirls of dark hair growing there.

“I won’t let him drown them,” she tells me. She’s a brunette with wide hazel eyes and a pretty mouth. She’s petite, and I bet she makes Starsky feel very big and masculine. Whatever made me imagine he’d want me? A big, blond… _man_?! My stomach hurts just thinking about it.

“You feeling bad, Blintz?” Starsky asks me, perfectly in tune to me, as always.

“Fine, Starsk,” I assure him.

“You call me when you get there tomorrow, okay?”

“I will.” And I plan to. But he won’t hear from me much after that.

Sheila starts talking about a movie they just saw, and I pretend to listen, but I’m really just counting the seconds until they leave. I can’t take this anymore. I know now that I’m doing the right thing by leaving—being close to Starsky is just too hard.

Finally, Sheila stands and says she has to work early in the morning. Starsky looks reluctant to leave. He clasps my hand and looks at me softly. I’m holding back the tears, putting on a front. I tell him to take care.

“I’ll see you soon, Blondie,” Starsky says, ruffling my hair. When he reaches the door, he turns back and winks, flirting with me as usual. Another twist of the knife.

Then he’s gone.

***

Even though I was born and raised here, Minnesota is difficult to get used to again. It’s been a month. The leg cast is itchy—I have another week to go in it, but the arm cast came off yesterday, thank God. My mom is driving me absolutely crazy with her hovering, and Dad’s over the moon that I’m quitting the force. He asks me every day if I’ve typed up my resignation yet and mailed it to Dobey. I’ve been putting it off, even though that’s what I plan to do. Every morning I wake up ready to do it, and then Starsky’s daily call, so full of enthusiasm and affection, makes me put it off one more day.  I’d change my mind altogether and high-tail it back to Bay City if his calls weren’t also filled with talk of Sheila: how she’s gotten a great job as a principal’s secretary at an elementary school, how they’re better than ever together. I never meant to talk with him this often, but he always calls, and I can’t bring myself to do anything other than speak with him.

This time he tells me that he’s been looking at rings.

My stomach hurts. I know I can’t go back to Bay City and work so closely with him when he’s in love with someone else. I should be grateful that he told me this news before I completely ruined things between us by admitting my feelings for him, but it’s hard to be. Not when I know it can’t ever be like it used to be. Someday I expect to have myself together enough for us to have some kind of relationship again, but that’s going to be a long time from now.

I sigh and pull out Dad’s new electric typewriter. It’s time for me to move on.

***

I wake from another dream about my partner. Okay, he’s not my partner anymore, and I’ve got to get used to that. These dreams about a physical closeness we never quite achieved are killing me. It only makes it worse that I don’t even have our old physical closeness to comfort me anymore. Dad almost jumped out of his skin when I put my arm around him the other day; we’ve never been a physically close family.

Shortly after I mailed my resignation last week, I called Dobey and asked him please not to tell Starsky about it. I’m going to have to do that myself. I keep chickening out, though. The doctor removed my leg cast a week ago, and Starsky hasn’t stopped asking when I’m coming back to Bay City. He’s asked Shelia to marry him, and she’s said yes. I’ve been putting Starsk off in our conversations, which are still a nightly thing. Tonight I’m going to get Mom to make up an excuse for me—say I’m out or something. I just can’t take it.

I’m going to look for an apartment.

***  
After an excruciating date with an old school mate, I settle down to read in my bedroom. This is the room I grew up in, and it still contains remnants of the boy I used to be. There’s a maroon and gold pennant on the wall over the bed, and my track and field trophy sits on the dresser next to a picture of me with Jack Mitchell at our high school graduation. We have our arms around each other, and as I gaze at it, something surfaces in my mind that I hadn’t thought about in a long time.

Jack and I were big buddies all through high school. We had loads of things in common, and between school and extracurricular activities, we spent almost every waking moment together. We were lifeguards at the country club during the summer, and during our senior year we waited tables in the club dining room.

I remember, that last summer, realizing that I had feelings for Jack. Feelings that went beyond friendship, and they scared the hell out of me. I buried them down deep and never thought of them again.

Throwing my book to the side, I reach over and turn the lamp off and settle down in bed. The moon is shining through the window, making a bright pathway across the blue bedspread that covers my legs. Slinging my arm up over my head, I stare at the ceiling, thinking about what life is going to be like from now on. I’m leaving behind everything I’ve known for the past ten years and starting fresh.

The movie tonight with Stephanie was so difficult to get through. All I could think about was Starsky; I’m hopeless.

He’s the last thing I think about before I fall asleep.

***

Two more weeks pass and I manage to avoid most of Starsky’s calls. The few times I have spoken with him, I’ve kept the conversation light and, as difficult as it’s been for me, focused on him and Shelia. They haven’t set a date for the wedding, thank God. I swear, if I had to fly out there right now to be best man, it would kill me. I can only be thankful that he’s not here in front of me, because the way I feel lately, I know I’d grab him and kiss him right on the mouth. Being away from him is only making things harder. He’s all I can think about. All my martyr-like feelings have hit the wayside, leaving me feeling selfish as hell.

But I am not going to be able to keep things from him forever. I’m going to have to get rid of my apartment in Bay City, and Starsky is definitely going to notice that. I’ve decided I don’t want to live in Duluth. My parents would drive me nuts. My sister, Ann, and I knew what we were doing when we moved away. I’ve been gathering information about training as a park ranger, thinking I could combine my love of law with my love of nature. If that’s the route I go, there are several places I could choose from. Right now I’m thinking the farther away, the better.

As soon as I walk in the door, Mom’s holding the phone out to me. “Kenneth, it’s for you.” She shakes her head to let me know that it isn’t Starsky. I take it, and I’m shocked to hear that it’s someone with parks and services. They’ve received my resume and have a possibility for me.

As I hang up the phone, it rings while my hand’s still on it.

“Hutchinson residence.”

“What the hell is going on, Hutch?” Starsky’s voice is quiet and angry.

“Starsky, hi.”

“Don’t ‘hi’ me! You’ve been feeding me bullshit for weeks now, and I want the truth.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. I hear my mother leave the room and shut the door.

“Dobey says you’ve resigned. Hutch, tell me what the hell is going on!”

It’s time. I have to do it now. Starsky’s cornered Dobey and made him talk. Pulling together all my courage, I take a breath and begin. “Starsk, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t told you about this; it’s just hard, you know? I can’t do it. I can’t be a cop anymore. You’re my buddy, and I love you, and I can’t watch you out there risking your life anymore, and I just don’t have the confidence in the police force that I used to. You need someone out there with you who believes in what he’s doing.” My hands are shaking. I sit down on a kitchen chair.

Starsky doesn’t say anything. I can hear him breathing, and it’s not even and quiet, either.  Finally, his voice a hoarse whisper, he asks, “What are you gonna do?”

I blow air out between my lips. “I don’t know yet. I’ll let you know as soon as I do, though.” That’s a lie.

“Are ya coming back here?”

I hesitate, another falsehood poised on my lips, but I just can’t lie to him anymore. “No.”

Starsky’s quiet for a few beats before he asks in an almost childish voice that tears me apart, “Why?”

I decide on a half-truth. “Buddy, we’ve had a great run together. Closer than even two brothers could be. But you’re starting a new life…you need time with your lady; you know it’s true. I can’t be in your life like I’ve been. We’ll always be close, Starsk. Always. But you need this time to start fresh.” I give a laugh that sounds a little more like I’m strangling. “When you start that family, ‘Uncle Hutch’ll come out and visit. All the time, I promise.”

There’s silence for long moments. I think I hear Starsky sniffling, but I’ve got to be wrong. Two times in a matter of months would be a new record; Starsky simply doesn’t cry easily. I, on the other hand, need to get off the phone before I lose it.

“Starsk, Pal, I-I’ve gotta go. My dad needs some help. I’ll call you soon, okay? I’m really sorry I kept this from you. I was just dreading telling you, that’s all.”

Starsky mumbles a goodbye, and I hang up.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in my room, brooding.

***

A couple of days later, I move into a hotel room. My dad and I aren’t getting along very well, and my mother is slowly smothering me with her attention. It’s amazing I’ve made it there this long. I call my sister long distance and give her my plans. The following week I’ll be moving to Gatlinburg, Tennessee, where I’ll be training as a park ranger in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. I’ve been hired sight-unseen due to my contact with an old friend who works for the park service, plus my reputation as a police officer. If Gunther’s hit did anything positive, it was this: taking down his syndicate made me sound like some kind of superhero. Seems funny, when all I was working with was cold fear and rage.

My ability to ride a horse, plus a minor in ecology, also helped land me the position. I’ve given Annie the task of keeping track of what goes on with Starsky in Bay City. Dobey has her number. If something was to happen to him, I have to know it, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to keep in regular touch with him and keep my sanity, too. I tried to call him a few hours ago after I had dinner in the hotel restaurant, but there was no answer. I hope he’s out with Shelia having a good time.

I lie down on the crisp hotel sheets and stare at the ceiling. I’ve spent so much time doing this lately, I’m getting to be a regular expert on it.  It’s that kind that looks like white cardboard and is in squares. There's a big water stain covering three of them.

_Oh, man, Hutchinson, you are pathetic!_

My thoughts turn from ceilings to sex. I haven’t had any in so long, I’m tempted to call Stephanie. But that wouldn’t be fair to her. Lord knows, I don’t want to start anything up with her.

I get up and head for the shower, feeling some relief when I turn it on cold and stop my burgeoning hard-on in its tracks. But as soon as I switch it to warm again and begin soaping up, my thoughts turn to my partner and the way he looks nude in the precinct shower. All that dark hair soapy and slick. That ass with rivulets of water coursing down it…and even though he's pretty hairy, his ass isn't; it's smooth as silk.

I can’t help it, my soapy hand grasps my cock and I pull on it, letting out a moan. I have to wonder if, given the chance, I could really go through with it. After all, I’ve never been with a man. Yet the thought of being with Starsky turns me on so much, I can’t stand it. I give my prick a few more pulls and am almost there when a pounding jerks me out of my sexual haze.

Quickly rinsing off, I turn off the shower and step out of the tub. Grabbing a towel, I pad across the worn carpet to the door, peering out the peep hole. I’m so surprised at what I see, I have to blink a few times to believe it. _Shit! It’s Starsky! What the hell!_ I secure the towel around my waist and open the door.

“Starsk-“ Starsky pushes his way in and slams the door before I can finish. I stand before him, dripping and bedraggled. I realize my mouth is hanging open, and I close it, tasting the remnants of shower water and hotel soap. God, Starsky looks so good. The fire I’d started in the shower blazes up several notches at the sight of him in his tight, worn jeans and wrinkled shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel.

Unexpectedly, he pushes me, hard, and I land on the bed. Towering over me, he demands, “What is going on, Hutch? You are going to tell me, NOW!”

I lie there staring up at him. I want to rip his clothes off. I blink senselessly.

Starsky’s jaw clenches. “You lie to me, leave me, give me some lame excuse…now I’m here, face-to-face, and you’d better tell me the _truth!”_

Uh, oh, I made the mistake of underestimating my partner. I swallow. “You really don't want to know the truth, Starsky. Believe me.”

“Try me,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “I swear to God, if you don’t give me the whole truth this time, Hutchinson, I’m gonna beat the holy shit out of you! Don’t think I won’t!” He points his finger at me menacingly, and I want to smile even though I know he means it. I just love him so much.

Carefully, I sit up. “Okay, Starsk. I’ll give you the pure, unadulterated truth.” And I’m really going to. This is most likely going to be the end of us, but it has to be said. “The day I was hit by the truck…the day you told me about Sheila. I was going to tell you something.” Starsky hasn’t moved, and I’m leaning my face back so I can see him. He’s looking down on me, eyes intense, all his emotion showing in his face. Curiosity. Desperation. Fear.

“Starsky…I was going to tell you that I love you. I’m in love with you. I want you.” My eyes don’t leave his.

Starsky frowns. He thinks it’s a joke, I can tell. His mouth gets rigid and his muscles tense. “What are you talking about?” he asks, annoyed. For a moment I’m sure he’s going to hit me. I reach out, grab his belt, and undo it. This is the only way he's going to believe me. He looks down, confused out of his anger for a moment. “What are you doin’?” He jerks away from me. “This isn’t funny, Hutch.”

“I'm telling you the truth, Starsk.” I try to grab him again. He steps aside, and I rise, take him by his arms and pull him to me, kissing him hard on the mouth. He stops trying to pull away, clearly stunned. Sitting back down on the bed, I unbutton his jeans.

“I’ve been lying to you, Starsk, but I’m not now,” I say calmly as I lower the zipper. “I love you. I want you. I’m going to show you how much.” I yank his jeans down to his knees and stare at his sex hanging lax between his hairy thighs. “Jesus, you’re beautiful, partner,” I whisper reverently, and to my utter amazement, his cock responds with a twitch. I moved my hands to the backs of his thighs and run them up to his ass, reveling in the feel of the soft roundness. How long I’ve wanted to do this!

“Hutch—“ his voice is confused, but his dick’s getting hard, and I lean in and breathe on it before taking it into my mouth. Starsky gasps, and I hold onto his ass.

“H-Hutch…” he breathes as my tongue moves over him. I love the feel of his cock against my tongue. It’s ruddy and thick, and just long enough to give me a really good mouthful. It hardens even more, and I suck carefully. He groans, and takes a handful of my hair in his fist, not pulling, but hanging on. I feel my own cock surging upward under the towel. I take one hand off his ass and yank the towel open, grasping my yearning shaft and caressing it as my mouth eagerly moves over Starsky’s hardening sex. He starts to thrust, and I take it gladly. I’ve never been with a man before, and it should be awkward, but this is my partner, and I’m going on instinct. I want to touch him, and I want to please him. Nothing else matters.

Breathing hard, Starsky steps out of his shoes and jeans and widens his stance. This is everything I’ve wanted, and I’m weak with desire. I lick my fingers and caress his tightening nuts. I risk a glance up and see he’s watching me, shock and desire warring on his face, but as I cradle his balls in my palm, he throws his head back and lets out a moan that triples my heartbeat. I slide my wet fingers back and touch his anus, and he moans again. I let go of my prick, and my right hand moves to steady the turgid organ in my mouth while my left rubs at the puckered hole.

“Oh, God!” Starsky cries, his hands moving to my shoulders to steady himself. I can feel myself leaking; I’m so excited. I take him all the way in and then out of my mouth, then suck the spongy tip, and then take it all the way in again to the very back and I swallow once, twice… and he shoots off with a jerk, warm semen coursing down my throat.

Listening to his climax, I cum on myself.

I pull off him and lie back on the bed. Starsky staggers a little and falls beside me in a slump, his head in his hands.

“You wanted the truth,” I say quietly, perhaps cruelly. “I gave it to you.”

Starsky’s breaths are shallow. I watch the patch of sweat on the back of his shirt moving with each exhalation . Finally, he stands and begins putting on his jeans, his back to me. His shoes are tangled up in them, and he wrestles them out. When he’s completely dressed, he heads for the door, and I just watch. He opens it, turns and drags his eyes to me. I’m still lying on the bed, the towel open and my dick limp and exhausted on my thigh. I don’t know what my eyes say, but I hope they show all the love I’m feeling. I’m pretty sure this is the last time we’ll ever see each other again. Starsky turns and leaves.

The door shuts on my former life with a loud click.

***

Tennessee is beautiful in the spring. Things blossom here early, and there are plenty of gorgeous blooms to admire. The mountains are lovely and the people friendly, and there’s no end to the beauty of the park. My training is over, and I’ve already participated in a few missing person rescues, which, thankfully, turned out well. I’ve been here two months. I try not to think about Starsky and what happened in the hotel room, but more often than not, my mind goes there when I’m alone. I tell myself that I went too far, that I burned our bridges, but I can’t regret what I did. I will carry the memory of it for the rest of my life. I think perhaps it convinced Starsky to move on without me, and that’s a good thing.

At the beginning of my sixth week as an actual park ranger, I receive a letter from my sister. Opening it, I pull out a white invitation with silver script announcing Starsky’s upcoming wedding. My gut clenches.  In a note Annie says that Mom didn’t know what to do with it—whether I would want it or not---so she passed the buck to her. Annie felt that I would want to see it and to know what was going on. She’s right, but it really, really hurts.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn. John Beck, a fellow ranger and new friend, looks at me, his eyes full of concern. “Are you okay, Ken? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

I try to smile. “Yeah.” I shove the invitation in my back pack. We are hiking deep into the forest to check a few campsites and have to get going. As we walk, I wonder at the fact that Starsky sent me an invitation. I haven’t talked to my mother, and therefore don’t know if he’s called the house. I wonder if it’s a statement of some sort. Like that he still wants to be friends. Or that he wants me to know he’s moving on. It puzzles me. I glance at John. He’s tall, with black hair and light eyes. He has a prominent nose and a great smile. I’ve been getting to know him little by little throughout my training, and his easy way with things has been a comfort for me in an otherwise trying time.

My existence here is pretty simple. I rent a furnished, one-room cabin just outside the park. My salary is pretty low, but the cost of living here is, too, and hell…what do I need money for, anyway? I work all the time and don’t even own a television set. John is one of my few friends, but I sometimes hang out with some of the other rangers at a local bar. This is the first time John and I have been hiking together for an extended period of time. We check out several campsites along Bullhead Trail, making sure regulations are being followed, and then head toward the Little Pigeons River to make camp. It’s late in the day before I’m able to pull out the invitation and study it again. April 19th. Two days away. I could hike out of here and hop a plane, but I know I won’t.

John has built a campfire, and I join him in front of it. It’s chilly tonight, and we’ve put on long johns under our uniforms. An owl calls in a tree overhead and the rushing of the river echoes nearby as I stare into the fire, brooding.

“You going to tell me what’s wrong?” John asks after a while.

I cast a look at him before gazing back into the fire. “A good friend’s getting married this weekend.”

“Oh, yeah? And it makes you unhappy? This some lady you fell for?” John scrunches down ‘til his back rests more comfortably against the backpack he’s leaning on.

I continue to stare into the fire. “No. My partner on the police force.”

I glance at John. He’s staring up into the trees, his profile composed. A lock of his black hair has fallen into his face, as it is wont to do. I know he’s a few years older than I am, divorced, and has a house in Gatlinburg. That’s pretty much it. I resolve to try to be a more interested friend.

After a moment, I take the invitation out and throw it into the fire, watching it curling up and burning to ashes.

“I take it you don’t want to go to the wedding,” John says quietly.

I shake my head slowly, still watching the flames eat the expensive, thick paper. “I definitely don’t.”

“I don’t want to pry…”

“Then don’t,” I answer quickly, and then more softly, “Sorry. Just...don’t.”

John continues staring at the sky. As though I’d spoken my resolution to get to know him better aloud, he begins to talk. “My marriage was a farce from the beginning. Jessica was a sweet girl, and I liked her a lot. Sex was pretty good, although she was young, inexperienced, and shy. But that has its own allure, you know?” He glances at me and I nod. I make myself more comfortable against my backpack, stretching my legs out and crossing them at the ankles. “Anyway,” John continues, “we were married about a year when she caught me with someone else. She moved out that night and divorced me soon after.”

I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry? That’s too bad? I look at him, and his grayish-blue eyes meet mine. “I didn’t want to end my marriage, but it was probably for the best,” he says.

“I’ve been married, too,” I offer. “Her name was Vanessa. Nothing I said or did ever suited her. Sometimes I really thought she hated me. I thought I loved her, but now I don’t know.” It feels good sharing something of myself with John. Less like I’m just a big fake.

We go to sleep there by the fire, watching the stars, and I dream of Starsky…his lips on mine, which I’ve never experienced other than in a few moments of horseplay or that once in the hotel room. In the dream, they are soft and dry, and then his tongue fills my mouth. I awaken, calling his name. The sun is just coming up. I glance over at John, but he’s still sleeping. Adjusting my erection, I watch him for a moment. That wayward lock of hair is in his face again, and his lashes are long and dark against his pale cheek. His bottom lip is full. I push the attraction I feel for him away. I've made a friend and don't want to repel him by wanting to get in his pants like I did with Starsky. I look away, focusing my attention on the ashes of the fire, and tamp down the pain and loneliness.

Later that day, after having hiked along the river to Chimney Tops trail, John and I pass a large Fraser Magnolia tree just as we leave Little Pigeon River and head toward the chimney-like pinnacles. Its white blossoms are large and fragrant, and I pause to admire them. John points out some Trillium, with its pretty, small pink blossoms, and then some white Hepatica. We talk plants and flowers for a while. John has a degree in botany and tells me a lot of things I didn’t know before that I find really interesting.

As we enter an old-growth forest, its canopy offering us welcomed shade, he informs me that in another month the yellow Buckeyes will be full of flowers. “We’ll hike down here again, then,” he says. “You’ll love them.” Today is warm, and we have on our khaki shorts rather than pants. We’ve shed our jackets and our arms have quickly gotten some color under the strong spring sun. We keep on our wide-brimmed ranger hats to protect our faces, although the forest shades us for the time being. This trail is slightly treacherous due to the steep climb and the gnarled roots that can easily trip a hiker, and we have to keep our eyes on the ground most of the time.

We run into several groups of park visitors, all on their way back to the beginning of the trail, it being late in the day. John and I plan to camp near the chimneys tonight. Reaching the top of the gulch, we continue on the main path, stopping briefly to admire our surroundings, eat sandwiches, and answer questions from a few stragglers headed in the opposite direction.

“Any creeks around here to bathe in?” I ask after the last person heads down the trail. “It would be great to be clean before nightfall.”

“Should be one not far from where I plan for us to camp,” John tells me. Part of the point of this hike is for him to continue to familiarize me with the trails. I’m in pretty good shape, and I’ve gotten in even better shape since I started, but these climbs today have been rough going. The accident with the truck a few months ago was a serious set-back to my stamina. John can tell I’m pretty worn out, I know, because he suggests we make camp before climbing the chimneys. I’m not a glutton for punishment, so I agree. Once we’ve left the trail and scoped out a place, we set up camp. As the sun sets, John leads me to the stream, where we strip off our clothes and get in.

I’ve found myself noticing and admiring men more and more lately. It seems that my attraction to Starsky has started me on a path that I’m not willing to give up. How strange it is to be headed in the direction at my age.

Now I surreptitiously eye John from under my lashes, taking in his long legs and the dark thatch of hair on his groin. His cock is long and thin, his hips narrow, his chest broad with a sprinkling of dark hair, and his shoulders wide. I’ve brought my shaving supplies and begin to shave my face. I think John may be checking me out as well, but I’m not sure. He’s sat down in the deepest part of the wide creek and he’s washing his hair, but every so often I feel his gaze resting on me. After I finish shaving, I join him. He offers me the bottle of shampoo that’s supposed to be safe for the watershed, and I pour a little in my palm. It doesn’t lather much, but I feel better for having used it. Afterward, we spread some towels out and lie down, letting the breeze dry us.

“Ken,” John says to me later when we’re lying in front of the campfire and darkness surrounds us, “when Jessica caught me with someone…it was a guy.”

I take that in for a moment, unsure of what to say. After a moment, he says, “You’re in love with your partner, aren’t you.”

I don’t deny it, but I don’t confirm it either. I don’t say anything at all, just continue to stare into the fire long after John has fallen asleep.

***  
The next day’s hike up to the chimneys is arduous. My muscles are screaming by the time we make it to the top, but the view is worth it.  Nothing but miles of rolling, tree-covered mountains. As we stand there enjoying the breathtaking view, I spot a bald eagle flying high above and point it out to John. The glorious bird circles, just low enough for us to make it out against the vast blue sky.

“Gorgeous,” I say under my breath, eyes wide, mouth open, completely enthralled by the sight.

“Yes,” John agrees, but when my eyes turn his way, he’s looking at me, not the bird, and my heart speeds up a little.

The rest of the day is spent hiking back to the trail head, where we catch a tour bus to Gatlinburg.  John invites me to spend the night, and I accept, not wanting to be alone in my cabin on the night of Starsky’s wedding. For the most part, I try not to think about it. I want my partner to be happy. Funny, I’ll always think of him that way—as my partner. Honest to God, I believe the man is my soul mate, and how unfair is it that I can't be with him like I want to be?

I end up telling John these things as evening falls and we’ve finished our huge meal of steak, potatoes, and salad. John is a marvelous cook. We’ve got beer and a fire in his fireplace, and through the open back doors we can see the shadow of the Great Smoky Mountains. John has loaned me a robe that’s blue and soft, and I feel a little drowsy.

“You’re lucky to have had that kind of relationship,” John tells me after I’ve voiced my thoughts. “I never did. The guy Jessica caught me with was just a pickup. She was supposed to be at her mother’s and not due back for days, but she said she’d missed me and come back early. I hated it that I hurt her like that. She’d had no idea. I'd just wanted what everyone else had--a normal life. But I couldn't ignore my attraction to men for long.”

I turn my face to the flames flickering in the fireplace, thinking about John’s young, naïve wife and what a shock that must have been to walk in on her husband with another man.

“Starsky was probably equally surprised when I told him. I never gave any sign that I wanted him, or any man for that matter. I remembered not too long ago that I’d had a crush on a male friend in high school. I think I’d pushed that memory way down deep inside of me. I never acted on it.”

“How long have you known you were in love with Starsky?”

I lean my head back and think. “I’ve probably known it forever--I mean, I've always loved him. As for physical attraction, I only acknowledged it a few months ago. I got up my courage to tell him, but before I could, he told me he was serious about this girl he’s marrying. I pretty much ran away, and when he came after me to make me talk to him, I forced myself on him.”

“What do you mean, you forced yourself on him?” John asks, frowning.

“I unzipped his pants and sucked him off.”

“He let you,” John clarifies.

“Yeah.”

“Doesn’t sound like you forced him to me.” John regards me for a moment, his stare heated. “That was your only time with a man, right? So you’ve never had anyone suck you off.”

“Well, I’ve never had a man do it. Plenty of women, though.” I smile, seeing his gaze drop to my lap. “Are you offering, John?” I ask, my eyes falling to his mouth. He immediately glides his tongue over his lips.

“If I am?” he challenges, his deep voice husky with want.

I take a breath, my heart beating fast. Tonight Starsky takes his bride to bed. I refuse to look at the clock and try to calculate whether they are married or not by now. I realize that, beneath the robe, my legs have fallen open. “I-I don’t know,” I stammer nervously.

“What are you afraid of?” John asks. He hasn’t made a move. He wants me to want it.

I look down. “I don’t know,” I say again.

“I’m not going to take advantage of you, Ken. Not when you’re sitting here thinking about the man you love. But I want you to know that I’m attracted to you. Very. And just one word from you will bring me to my knees. Both literally and figuratively.”

 “What word would that be?” I ask, my suddenly dry mouth forming a crooked smile.

“Well, maybe two words,” John grins and takes a sip of his beer. “Suck me. Fuck me. Rim me. Any of those will do.”

The fire in his eyes and the images his words invoke go straight to my dick and suddenly I’m sporting a woody that’s lifted the robe from my lap. John’s eyes travel there again and this time they linger.  “One of those things spark your interest?” he asks.

“I-I’ve never been, I mean, I’ve never done…or never had any of that done…” I can’t get a real sentence out to save my life. Heat is climbing up my body, spreading throughout my system. This man wants me. He wants me now. All I’ve got to do is ask.

“Remember what I said about there being a certain allure in a virgin,” John says. “But it’s got to be at your request. I’ll show you everything you need to know.”

I swallow. _Oh, shit. That’s what I am. A virgin._ I want to laugh. It's been an awfully long time since I could call myself one. _  
_

I look down at my lap and the enormous erection that’s tenting my robe. “I guess it would be fruitless to claim disinterest,” I quip nervously.

John laughs. “Yeah, I’d say so. Ken, I’ll tell you what I’d like to do, and you decide.” He shifts in his chair. “I’d like to come over there and open that robe. I’d like to touch you…to take you in my mouth and give you exquisite pleasure. After that, I’d like to take you upstairs to my bedroom and love you until you beg me for more, and then I want to send you to the moon and back.”

I stare at him. There is a pulse in my dick that’s in tune with my heart and they both say to go for it. Starsky’s married by now; I know it. It’s late, and he’s naked in bed with his wife. They’ve been joined to one another forever. I ache at the thought. I miss him so much, and the knowledge that I’ll never see him again weighs heavily on my heart.

But he doesn’t want me. Ever. John does. I open my mouth and finally get the word out.

“Okay.”

John puts his beer bottle down, stands up, and walks over to me. I just watch, both mesmerized and terrified. Falling to his knees on the rug, just as he said he would, he reaches out and gently unties my robe, pulling it open at each side. My cock is hard and pointing straight at my face. He runs a finger down it from tip to base, and I suck in a breath of anticipation. Next, he cups my balls, squeezing them with just enough pressure, as only a man can. His other hand rests on my thigh, his thumb moving back and forth over my flesh. With a lick of his lips, he leans down and, bringing his hand up from my sack, guides me into his mouth. My head falls back as the singular sensation of wet, warm suction envelopes me. John obviously enjoys what he’s doing, just as I enjoyed it when I did it to Starsky. His head bobs up and down over my lap as he sucks and licks, spit dribbling from his lips. I cry out, my ass rising off the couch and my fists grabbing at the sofa cushions. It’s so good, so good, so fucking good.

John laps at my swollen cock enthusiastically, drool pooling at the base, before he takes me back in and bobs some more. The familiar tension builds inside me…so close, so close…and I start to pant. John goes at me with even more vigor and then, with a shout, I’m coming in his mouth, and he’s taking it all in like it’s the most delicious thing he’s ever tasted. When he pulls off me and my spent prick wilts onto my thigh, John leans forward. He kisses me gently, and I taste myself.

He stands and holds out a hand to help me up. We climb up the staircase to his bedroom.

Hours later, as John sleeps, I slip out onto the deck and climb into the hot tub. My body aches. There’s not one place on me that hasn’t been explored by John’s devilish tongue. I’ve had a real lesson in the art of homosexual lovemaking, that’s for certain; I came three times before it was all over, the last with John’s long prick up my ass. I never imagined that that particular act could feel so good.  I am completely drained.

Looking out at the wide expanse of black night sprinkled with white stars, I wonder what my partner is doing. Is he lying in bed, spent, after hours of lovemaking, his wife wrapped in his arms? Has the thought of me crossed his mind at all this night? I had to bite my tongue several times in order not to call out his name as John fucked me.

“Oh, Starsky,” I whisper. “I love you. I’ll always love you.” I can’t help myself; a tear trickles down my cheek followed by another.

***

Two weeks pass in a flurry of activity as people from all over come to explore the Great Smoky Mountains and enjoy spring at its height. Ensuring the safety of the tourists, handling problems, heading off wayward black bears, finding lost hikers, and controlling accidental fires takes up a good bit of my time. I’m exhausted, and every night I fall into bed like a felled tree. I haven’t seen John much outside of the job, although he’s given me a few smoldering looks when no one was looking that sent my blood pressure skyrocketing.

A few nights ago I invited him for dinner and ended up sucking him off after dessert. I like John. A lot. But I can’t stop thinking about Starsky. I feigned being tired and John went home early. I finally called my sister and asked her if she’d heard anything. My parents have been strictly told not to tell anyone where I am, and they are more than willing to keep that promise, since neither one of them wants to see me as a street cop again. I guess they think that one word from Starsky would send me back in that direction, but the truth is that I didn’t lie to him when I told him I was burned out. I don’t want to be a cop anymore. I also never wanted to stand in the way of Starsky’s marriage, and I told my parents soon after the wedding date passed that they were now free to let him know where I was, should he call. Since he hasn’t called before, I highly doubt he’s going to now, but you never know. Maybe the fact that I didn’t attend his wedding put him off. Annie hasn’t heard anything, which is good, because if she had, that would mean Dobey’d called about Starsky’s well-being. Annie asked me if I’m happy, and I told her I’m doing well.

As we wrap up another tiring day in the office, the last two people left in the building, I call to John where he sits at a desk writing up a report on some camping violation. “Hey—you want to come over tomorrow afternoon?”

John looks up and smiles. “Sure.” He looks really pleased, and I smile back. He’s been waiting for me to give more of myself, I know. I think I might be ready.

“What time?”

“How about around four?” I stack up the last of my folders and stand.

John nods, puts his pen in the desk drawer, and pushes back his chair. “I look forward to it.” His eyes speak volumes.

***

When John arrives, I have a roast in the oven and candles on the table. My one-room cabin is pretty sparse. There’s a large bed in the corner, the red and yellow quilt my grandmother made the only splash of color in the room. A tired old nightstand stands beside it. Then there’s the sofa and a chair, with an end table between them. In another corner, near the kitchen, is a large bench table. The kitchen consists of no more than a refrigerator and a stove. When I knew I was moving here, I asked Huggy to pack up my stuff in my apartment, ship it to me, and rent the place out furnished. I sent him a check for his trouble. There was just no way I could face going back there and doing it myself. Most of my things I’ve stored at Mom and Dad’s, but I do have my guitar here and a few plants.

“Ken?” I’ve left the door unlocked, and John walks in. He looks very nice in a pair of dark slacks and gray dress shirt. He’s taken special pains with his appearance, I can tell. I, too, have made sure I look and smell especially nice. I’m horny as hell, and I can tell John is, too. We leave the roast on the stove and begin undressing each other.  John’s eager tongue devours my mouth, silently telling me he’s been waiting for this—the moment when I willingly give myself over. It’s different kissing a man…harder, more powerful, and I like it. When I have him naked, I lead him to the bed and lie on top of him, our groins rubbing against one another as we kiss.

“Ken, oh, God, Ken…”John breathes into my ear as his large hands knead my ass.  “Fuck me, Ken, come on. You’ll like it, I promise.” His knees move up to my sides and squeeze invitingly.

I straighten up, staring down at him. He’s panting with desire, his dark hair falling into his eyes.

“You got to get me ready first…you have some stuff?”

I’m prepared. I reach for the drawer beside the bed, my hands shaking. John takes it from me, puts some on his finger, and prepares himself, since I’m still staring blankly. The next thing I know, he places his legs over my shoulders, and then I’m inside him, ramming him hard, and he’s holding onto the headboard for dear life. His prick is long and stiff and slapping his stomach with every thrust, and I’ve never felt anything this tight and good before.

John throws his head back and yells my name as he comes all over his stomach, and I follow close behind.

Panting, I collapse beside him on the bed. John pulls me to him, holding me lovingly. “God, Ken,” he kisses my head. “That was fantastic.” I close my eyes, my head on his chest.

And think of Starsky.

***

Tennessee in the summertime is like a sauna. It’s so humid, it takes about a minute outside to be covered in sweat. We’ve been busy, John and I have only gotten together once in the last couple of weeks. We had dinner at his place and then got into his hot tub on the deck.  Pretty soon we were making out, and he climbed onto my dick, screwing me senseless with the sounds of the hot summer night all around us. Since then, I’ve been on two search and rescues, and he’s been fighting a fire over on the North Carolina side of the park, so I haven’t seen him at all.

Today, however, he’s back, and we hardly have time to say hello before they’re sending us out on the trail looking for an eight-year-old girl. Kids are always wandering off and getting lost in the unfamiliar woods. So far since I’ve been here, we’ve found every one of them. But there’s always the danger of a bear attack, or possibly a snake bite.

We set off at a good clip with a group of other enforcement rangers, as night will be falling soon. We have flashlights and rifles, along with first aid equipment and other supplies in case we find the child hurt. When we reach the campsite, which isn’t very far from the rangers’ station, we spend a little time talking to the distraught parents. Our supervisor, Tim Hall, directs us in pairs, spreading us out in all directions, concentrating first on the marked trails. We start off as directed, eyes alert for any sign of broken branches or footprints. 

“It’s going to be dark soon,” I say. “Good thing it isn’t cold.”

John agrees. We keep walking and calling the girl’s name.

Suddenly John stops and points to the ground. “Bear scat,” he says quietly. “Looks fresh.”

I glance around, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. I haven’t seen a bear up close since I’ve been here. Most black bears are timid and will run when confronted with noise or an imposing figure, but every so often a habituated bear will attack. I’ve read about them, participated in the training, and presumably know what to do if I run into one. Still, I’m hoping I won’t.

We resume walking.

“Julie!” I yell, hearing it echo through the forest. We can hear similar cries farther away.

“Julie!” John calls.

We round a corner with me in the lead, and all of a sudden I’m run over by a freight train. I’m on the ground with a growling mass of snarling and snapping teeth hovering over me, long strings of saliva pooling in my face and the stench of wild animal in my nostrils. I cover my head with my arms and roll to the side, heart pounding in my ears. I try to remember what to do, but it's like all my training's gone out the window. I hear John yelling just before a searing pain rips through my torso. 

I hear more shouting and a gun shot, then another gunshot. Everything goes dark, and the last thing I remember is John’s face leaning over me, telling me to hang on.

He looks terrified.

***

_We’re driving in the Torino. Starsky’s got that shit-eating grin on his face. The wind’s blowing my hair in my face. Starsky pats my knee. I hurt. Why is there so much pain? I look again, but Starsky’s no longer there. I’m standing in a hallway, and there’s a girl with a gun. She looks so young—not old enough to hold a gun like that. The bullet hurls into me, spinning me around and slamming me into the wall.  I hear Starsky break the window. It isn’t long until he’s beside me, checking on me, then he runs after the perp. God, it hurts, Starsk. Hurry back, please._

As I pull myself toward consciousness, the first thing I’m aware of is pain. Terrible pain. Pain worse than I’ve ever known. It wraps around my middle and squeezes like a vice. “Starsky,” I say, because I want my partner. He’s always here when I need him, and I need him now. “Starsky,” I say again, and I know it’s just a whisper, not a yell like I want it to be. I feel very alone. I sink once more into darkness.

A familiar voice sounds in my ear sometime later; I don’t know how long.

“Kenny? Can you hear me?” It’s my sister, Ann. She squeezes my hand. What’s she doing here in Bay City?

“Starsk?” I try to say.

“Kenny? Did you say something?”

I try to open my eyes. It’s bright. I see the blurred outline of her face. “Starsk…”

“He wants Starsky,” another voice. A man. “He wants his partner.”

I know that voice, but I can’t remember who it belongs to.

“He doesn’t want him to know where he is.” Ann again. What’s she talking about? Why wouldn’t I want Starsky to know where I am?

A thousand blazing pitchforks are searing into my abdomen. I cry out, but what I hear is a mewling sound that couldn’t have come from me. I hear a third voice. There’s a pat on my shoulder. Blessed relief bringing darkness again.

I relive days with Starsky, together on the streets, feeling as though I’m really there—it’s really happening-- until something crazy or horrifying breaks up the images, and I’m left with a terrible void and excruciating pain. I toss in the bed, and every movement is sheer agony. I’m so hot. I’m so thirsty. Annie is sometimes in the room with me and sometimes not. I can only open my eyes for seconds at a time. I’m so weak. I hurt. I want Starsky. Why isn’t he here?

“Mom and Dad’s flight was cancelled due to storms,” Annie tells me. Her voice sounds strained. “They’ll be here as soon as they can, though.”

“S-starsky,” I say weakly. “Starsky.”

“Kenny, do you know what you’re saying? Do you want me to tell Starsky where you are?”

“For God’s sake, he may die! Call him!” It’s that voice again that I can’t place. I’m grateful to this person for speaking for me.

The door shuts. The deep voice is closer now, right beside my ear. I feel a hand on my own…a strong hand. “Ken, she’s going to call him. I’m sure he’ll come.”

I try to open my eyes. Everything’s blurry.

“It’s John, Ken. I’m here with you. You’re in the hospital. Do you remember what happened? You were attacked by a bear out on one of the trails.”

It’s coming back to me now. “J-julie?”

John chuckles unevenly. “They found her. She’s okay. You rest now, Ken. Everything’s going to be okay. You’ve just got to fight to stay with us…you have a high fever.” He leans in and kisses my forehead. “Sleep.”

The pain worsens. A million voices are here with me, voices from the past, all accusing and unforgiving. “S-stop! Stop!” I whimper over and over again. Nothing helps. Nothing. The darkness waits, and I’m afraid.

John’s with me again. “Ken, fight it. Fight it. You’re strong. You can beat this. Please.”

I do fight. I have to see Starsky. Starsky’s coming soon, and I have to see him. “Starsky!” I yell. “Starsky!”

_“Did you tell him how bad off he is?”_

_“I never talked to him. I had to leave a message with his superior.”_

_“Holy shit, I can’t stand listening to him calling for him anymore! The sonovabitch better show up soon, or I’m going to go get him myself!”_

I remember now. Starsky’s married. He probably doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. I ruined our friendship and didn’t show up at his wedding. Starsky’s not coming.

Suddenly grateful for the darkness, I let it take me.

***

Gentle fingers stroke my mustache. It feels nice. I’m so alone; I need someone. “John,” I say, and the contact stops. I struggle to surface from this black nothingness that’s holding me down.

After a few moments, a door shuts. “Shh, be still. I’m here, Ken. Did you call for me?” A hand holding mine. I’m so hot.

“I-I…” I can’t get any words out. I’m so tired. I sink back into the fog.

The pain continues, eating me from the inside out. I can’t get comfortable. I can’t escape. I thrash and cry out, trying to break the white hot chains that bind me. Hands on my shoulders hold me down.

“Shhh, come on, Blintz, stay still. You’re gonna rip out all your stitches.”

I still immediately, breathing hard. That voice. That beloved voice. A tear slides down the side of my face. Fingers on my mustache again, stroking, soothing.

“You gotta get well, Blondie, so you can go back to being the White Knight of the Wilderness.”

I use all my strength and force my eyes open. “S-starsk?”

Blurry, but it’s that grin. Those eyes. I’m in heaven.

“Yeah, it’s me. Surprised? I bet you are, since you’ve been hiding from me for months.” His face crumples, and I watch as he struggles to reassemble it. “You gotta get through this, Blondie. For me.”

I blink, lick my lips. I try to think of Starsky’s wife’s name, but I can’t remember. I struggle to grasp it just beyond the reaches of my memory.

“You want me to get John?” Starsky asks. He starts to get up, but I manage to grab hold of his hand.

“Don’t…leave me,” I gasp, before I have to close my eyes again. To rest. Just for a minute.

Blessed coolness and gray fog. I become more aware of my surroundings. Hospital. My mother’s voice.

“S-starsky,” I say as I open my eyes. The brightness hurts, and my mother flips the wall switch so that the room is only brightened by the sunlight filtering through the blinds on the windows.

“He’s gone to get something to eat, honey. He, your dad, Annie and your friend, John. They’ll be back in a while. You’re doing much better. You really scared us, Ken.”

“Sorry,” I manage. It’s a little difficult to imagine Starsky having lunch with my dad, and I’m suddenly accosted by the fear that now that I’m out of danger, Starsky’s headed back home without anyone telling me.

“Mom, I need to talk to Starsky.”

My mother appears disheveled, which is unusual for her. She stands in the middle of the room looking a little lost, her ash-colored hair coming unpinned and her blouse wrinkled. “I told you, he’s eating…”

I struggle to sit up. “I need to see him, Mom. Now. I need to see him now.” I wince in pain. Starsky can't go before I talk to him.

Mom rushes forward. “Kenneth, lie down! You’re going to pull out your stitches and erase every bit of progress you’ve made.” Her hands flutter above me, ineffectually pushing my shoulders and then my head. I hurt like crazy, and then I’m dizzy and fall back on the pillows.

“Get him…or…I swear, I’ll get up. I will,” I manage to say before clamping my jaw shut in agony.

Mom shakes her head. “So stubborn.” But she leaves the room at a fast pace. I lie panting. I can imagine Starsky slipping away, back to his life in Bay City, back to his wife. I have to see him again. Those few precious seconds weren’t enough. Not nearly enough to last me the rest of my life.

It takes a while, but Starsky rushes into the room. He’s got a napkin tucked in the neck of his shirt and food at the corner of his mouth. I’ve been worried, but at the sight of him, I smile, then laugh weakly, wincing as my body screams in pain.

“What the hell?” Starsky asks, pulling a chair up to the bed and sitting down. “Blintz, what’s goin’ on? Your mom pulled me out of the cafeteria like it was on fire or something!”

“Sorry, I had to see you again. Thought you might slip out and go home.”

Starsky’s expression goes soft. “Come on, Blondie. You know I wouldn’t do that.”

I watch his face, soaking up every expression. His dark curls are a little longer than usual, and I want to tell him that’s exactly how I like them. He looks so good. “I’m sorry, Starsk. I-I’m sorry for everything.”

“Shh, it’s okay. Hutch, you need your rest.”

I fight his hands as they try to pull the covers up. “No, Starsk. I’m sorry, really. I-I should’ve gone to your wedding. You’re my best friend. I’m sorry.” I try to sit up again and immediately regret it.

Starsky is standing now. “We’ll talk later, okay? I promise I’m not goin’ anywhere. Your friend John let me in your cabin, and I’m staying there. Well, I haven’t yet; I’ve been here. But all my stuff’s there. We’ll talk when you’re outta here; now stop fighting me and rest, dammit!” His face has gone red, and I stop trying to sit up. I’ve broken into a sweat and lay gasping on the bed.

“Promise?” I rasp out.

“Swear it, Blintz. Now can I go finish my mashed potatoes?” He smiles.

I nod, he gives me a sip from the water beside my bed, an affectionate pat on the head, and waits for me to close my eyes and breathe evenly before he goes.

Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe he forgives me. Maybe, someday, we can be friends again and it won’t hurt so damn much.

***

It’s a week before I’m released. I was in and out of consciousness after they sewed up the gash the she-bear we’d cornered on the trail had ripped into me. I’d gotten an infection that had raged for three days.

After I was on the road to recovery, my sister flew home. My parents stayed a couple more days. Mom cleaned my cabin and stocked it with food, lecturing me on how I wasn’t eating well enough. Dad was more silent than usual. I think he’s got an inkling of my new lifestyle, but he’d never bring it up, even with a gun to his head.

Starsky and John help me settle in, and John leaves. Before he does, he kisses me gently on the mouth.

“I’m so glad you’re okay, Ken,” he whispers fiercely, his blue-gray eyes showing me how he feels. “Call me if you need me.”  I touch his cheek, nod, and he goes. Starsky’s been occupying himself in the corner kitchen area, giving us our privacy. He brings me some ice water.

“Nice guy,” he says, sitting beside me on the dun-colored couch. “He saved your life. Shot that bear before it could do any more damage.”

“He’s one of the good ones,” I agree, sipping the water.

“Seems to like you a lot,” Starsky says after a moment.

I look at him but don’t say anything. Finally I put the glass down and say, “We’re involved.”

“I gathered as much,” Starsky says quietly. “Hutch…you gotta know, you really blindsided me back in that hotel room. I had _no_ idea that you wanted that from me.”

I blink and look away. “I know. I’m sorry, Starsk—I just couldn’t hold back any longer.”

“Well, you certainly _didn’t_ hold back.” A smile plays around Starsky’s mouth. I manage a small one of my own.

“At that point, I was trying to drive you away. I wanted you to go and be happy.”

“Happy without you?” Starsky looks sad.

“Happy with a wife and family.  Starsk—I’m sorry I didn’t come to the wedding. I just couldn’t. How is she? Sheila?”

Starsky frowns. “That’s something I don’t get, Blintz. You say you got an invitation.”

“It came to my parents’ house. Mom sent it to Ann, because she wasn’t sure what to do with it, and Annie sent it to me. By that time, the wedding was only a couple of days away.”

“But…I-I didn’t send you an invitation.”

I jerk in surprise and the pain in my abdomen flairs. I grasp my side, and Starsky reaches out. “Easy, Buddy. Take it easy. I didn’t send you an invitation, Hutch, ‘cause I didn’t get married.”

I look at him, wide-eyed, certain I’d heard him wrong.

“Sure, we had ‘em printed out and all, but I backed out of the wedding.” He looked down. “I’m not proud of it. I hurt her real bad. Told her I was confused and couldn’t go through with it. The whole thing’s been embarrassing as hell. I took leave, and I’ve spent some time looking for you. Your mom’s a regular steel trap…she oughta be in the secret service or something.”

“She told me you hadn’t called!” I protest.

Starsky makes a face half-way between a wince and a smile. “Well, I did. About a thousand times. Thought they were gonna have their number changed and unlisted before it was over with. Even had your dad tell me off. I didn’t have your sister’s number, or I mighta harassed her, too. I was in Arizona looking for you when your sister called Dobey about the bear attack.”

“Arizona?” I ask, puzzled.

Starsky shrugs. “Seemed as good a place as any. I’d read about some job openings as trail guides in the Grand Canyon.” He looks at me accusingly. “You didn’t leave me anything to go on.” He stands abruptly. “You’ve had a trying day. Why don’t you lie back and take a nap? I’m gonna…” he looks around. “Oh yeah, you don’t seem to have a TV here. Figured that out pretty fast. Well, I guess I’ll read one of those fascinating books on botany you got over there.” He indicates my stack of books in the corner.

“Would you help me over to the bed?” I ask, “This couch is uncomfortable.” Starsky leans down to help me stand. My abdominal muscles had been ripped by the bear’s claws, and my entire middle hurts like a motherfucker. Starsky half-lifts me up, keeping me from stretching them too much as I stand. He leads me across the room and carefully removes my shirt before lowering me to the bed. I unbutton my pants, and he eases them off me. He seems to be staring at the bed as though there was something fascinating there.

“What is it?” I ask him.

Starsky shrugs. “Nothing.” He gently assists me in reclining on the mattress, then sits beside me, his hand on my arm. “Hutch…how long have you had these feelings for men?”

I look away. “I think I’ve had them on and off for a long time, but I never acted on them. It was after Gunther that I really started feeling differently toward you. All the strong feelings I’ve had for you got even stronger. And when I moved here, well, I met John and I told him about you. We work together, and he was attracted to me… after a while we just got together.”

“Do you love him?” Starsky asks.

“I care about him. I _love_ you.”

It’s Starsky’s turn to look away.

“What were you going to tell me if you found me, Starsk?” I ask.

Starsky looks down at me. “First I was gonna punch you in the nose for pulling that on me and then disappearing before I could process it. Then I was gonna tell you I don’t know how I feel.”

“Oh.” I move my arm out from under his hand and entwine our fingers. Lifting his hand to my lips, I kiss the knuckles, my eyes never leaving his.

“I’m scared, Hutch. I don’t know what to think or feel.”

I smile gently at him. “I know, Buddy. I’m sorry I put you in this position. I wish I had handled everything better.”

Starsky looks at me. “That’s not fair to you. You have a right to your feelings and desires. I love you, Hutch. You gotta know that. I just don’t know _how_ I love you. But one thing I do know…I don’t know how not to love you.”

“Aw, Starsk.” I look at him with sympathy.

He pats my leg. “Go on to sleep. I’ll make us some dinner in a while.”

I wake to the smell of something delicious cooking. I start to sit up, forgetting for a moment about my wound and cry out in pain.

“Easy, Hutch. Here, let me help you.” Starsky’s immediately at my side, putting an arm around my shoulder and easing me up to a sitting position. I’ve missed his touch so much that I close my eyes for a moment and relish it.

“You okay? You want some pain meds?” Starsky asks, worry evident in his voice.

I open my eyes and meet his steadily. “I’ve got what I need for the pain right here.” He holds my gaze for a few beats, taking in my meaning, then smiles.

“You romantic devil, you.” We both chuckle and the moment dissolves. He helps me over to the table and brings me a plate of food.

“Delicious,” I tell him when he’s seated across from me and we’ve dug into the meal. Starsky doesn’t cook much, but what he does cook is always really good.

“What’s it like, Hutch?”

I look up from my plate, take my napkin, and wipe off my mustache. “What’s what like?”

“Being with a man. Makin’…love to a guy.”

I watch his face a moment, and seeing that he really wants to know, I chew my next bite and think about it. He waits, knowing I’ll give him the best answer I’m able to.

“It’s different,” I finally say. “I mean, if you’re coming at it like you’re expecting what you’re used to…a woman’s curves and yielding body…you’re in for a shock. It’s more like a give and take. Sometimes you want to be in charge, sometimes not. With a woman, I’m always in charge. With a man, sometimes I allow myself to be overpowered, and I like that. There’s something equally sensual about a man’s hard, toned body. About hair in places you aren’t used to. There’s something different but equally exciting about a man taking you in his mouth.” I meet his eyes, suddenly remembering that Starsky’s experienced that first hand. He nods slightly, breaking eye contact with me for a moment, and I go on, thinking about my nights with John. “If you’ve ever had anal sex, you know how good it can be. And there are other ways to give pleasure…” I close my eyes for a moment, a little overcome, not so much with what I’ve done with John as with thinking about experiencing those things with the man across from me.

Starsky abruptly rises. “Maybe in a few days we can go out to eat with John. When you feel like getting out.”

Regret washes over me. I’ve made Starsky uncomfortable. He doesn’t like the idea of being with a man, and I need to accept it if I want to have some kind of friendship with him in the future, even long distance.

To change the subject, I ask him something I’ve been really curious about. “Why did you back out of the wedding, Starsk?” 

He stands at the window and looks out. “I’m not sure. I was really confused after…after you did what you did. I was confused about my reaction. I-I not only let you do it, but I liked it.” He looks over his shoulder at me. “I think you know that.”

I shrug. “Why wouldn’t you like it?”

“You’re a guy, Hutch! I shoulda pushed you away…stopped you!”

“So now you’re worried that you’re gay.” 

He looks down.

“Starsk, we’ve been partners for years. I’m your best friend. You trust me. You let yourself go and enjoyed it. So what? That doesn’t make you gay, okay? Did you call off the wedding because of that?”

Starsky shakes his head. “No, not really. I mean, not because I was afraid I was gay, but because of my strong reaction to it. At first the whole thing made me want to marry Sheila and prove I’m _not_ gay. But after a while I started wondering what I really wanted. And I couldn’t get a hold of you. I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry.” Looking at it from his point of view, I can see what a selfish bastard I’ve been. Why did I think Starsky would be okay with me disappearing out of his life like that? “I really want you to be happy,” I say, and I mean it. “And I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

Starsky walks over to me. “Hutch…”he crouches in front of my chair and takes my hand. “I’m scared. I love you, I don’t want to be without you, but I don’t think I can be with a man.”

Even though it’s what I expected, my heart sinks. “It’s okay, Starsk.” Suddenly I’m so very tired. “Would you mind if I go on to bed?” I ask. I’m sitting in my underwear, a bandage wrapped around my middle, feeling for all the world like a limp dishrag. I can’t even summon up the energy to finish my dinner.

“Sure, Buddy,” Starsky says, and helps me get up and over to the bed. I’m pretty much asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow, but I feel Starsky cover me and his hand run through my hair before darkness and dreams take me.

Sometime in the night I realize that Starsky’s in bed with me. In one way, it feels odd, because I’ve only ever lain in this bed with John, and that’s only been a couple of times. In another way, it feels very, very right. Not only because I’ve slept in the same bed with Starsky several times over the years, but because I can’t help but feel that I belong with him. I want to roll over and snuggle up to him—feel the warmth of his body against mine—but my injury forces me to stay on my back. I lie listening to his even breathing and slowly reach over and press the back of my hand to his T-shirt. Just touching him makes me feel better, and I drift back off to sleep.

***

The next few days I spend lounging around. Starsky won’t let me do anything, so I mostly read and nap. I talk to Starsky a bit about the park and what I do there and some things I’ve seen. He’s interested, and listens intently. I promise to show him around, if not as soon as I’m able, then during a subsequent visit.

After three days, John stops by after work, and Starsky takes a walk to let us have some time alone. I think John’s been staying away for the same reason, perhaps thinking that Starsky and I might come to some happy agreement. As soon as he’s gone, I assure John that, although Starsky and I have mended our friendship, there isn’t a chance we’ll be entering a romantic relationship.

“Ken, give him some time,” John tells me.

“You almost sound as though you’re trying to get us together. You tired of me or something?”

John clasps my hand, his gray-blue eyes deadly serious. “I am not, nor will I ever be, tired of you, Kenneth Hutchinson.”

I squeeze his fingers. “This can’t be easy on you.”

“I went into this knowing you’re in love with him,” John reminds me.

“Yeah, but you thought he was happily married to a woman. Now you find out he’s single and confused.”

“But you think there’s no chance.”

I sigh. “There isn’t. He’s straighter than an arrow.”

John moves closer to me. “I guess I’m a real bastard because I can’t help but be glad.” He puts his hand on my face and rubs his thumb over my cheek. I move my head and kiss his palm. John leans in and presses his lips to mine. Once. Twice. The third time, I open my mouth and take in his warm tongue. It feels nice and my cock twitches in my pants. John’s hand moves along my neck and into my hair, wrapping his fingers in it and tugging my head back so that his mouth can move to my throat. I groan.

“Ken,” John’s voice is raspy with desire, “let me suck you off. Please. I’ve missed you.” His mouth moves across my throat to the other side of my neck as I turn my head into the cushion, giving him access. I hear a bug hit the window, reminding me that Starsky could come back at any time.

“I don’t know…,” I breathe out.

“He’s only been gone a short time,” John says, reading my mind. Reaching out, he unbuttons my pants.

I’m on fire and can’t deny him. He quickly pulls my lengthening cock out and puts his mouth over it. I rise off the couch with a stifled yell, tingles of desire coursing through me as John runs his tongue all over my prick and applies suction at the tip. I lean my head back, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

“Oh, yeah…shit. Yeahhhh.” It doesn’t take long. I release into his mouth, and he kisses my prick and balls before tucking me back in and sitting up. “That was great,” I smile. “Really great.” I feel boneless.

“I guess I should get going,” John says. “I’ve got a mountain of laundry to do at home.” He kisses me lingeringly and stands. I hold out my hand.

“Let me reciprocate.”

“You’re in no condition to hunch over like that, Ken.” John says, but I can tell how bad-off he his. I lower my eyes and the hardness under his cotton pants confirms it. I sit up straight and face him. “I can do it this way.” I undo his pants, listening to his breathing accelerate as I pull them down, along with his briefs, setting his long shaft free. Running my thumbs up his inner thighs, I spend some time watching him come to a full erection before running my tongue from his balls to the tip of his dick and then enveloping it in my mouth.

“Oh, motherf—“ John bites off the expletive as I take him down to my throat and then he whimpers, his hands tangling in my hair, encouraging my rhythm. I caress his sack with one hand while gripping his sex with the other, my mouth working him intently, my satiated dick prickling with renewed interest as John cries out over and over before coming in my mouth.

I swallow, fix him into his pants, and lean back, smiling.

John laughs down at me. “You smug bastard,” he says fondly. “That was fantastic.” He leans down and kisses me, sucking a little on my lower lip before releasing me. “I’ll stop by tomorrow after work, okay?” He touches my hair, waves, and leaves. I hear his motorbike start, a rumble in the night.

It isn’t too long after he goes that Starsky re-enters the cabin. He seems subdued.

“Have a nice walk?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says.

“Starsk?” I turn around, careful of my injury. “You okay?”

“Fine,” he says, but I can tell he’s not.

“Right,” I say, just like I used to out on the streets. “Tell me.”

Starsky looks at me. “You’re gonna be mad.”

I raise a brow. “I’ll try not to be.”

Starsky sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “I was spying on you.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I didn’t mean to. I got outside and walked around, then the mosquitoes started eatin’ me alive…they’re everywhere out here! So I just peeked in the window to make sure you weren’t…uh…busy…before I came in.”

“And we were,” I say quietly, not knowing how I feel about this.

“Yeah. Very. But I kept watching, Hutch. I know it was wrong, but I wanted to see what it could be like for two men.”

“Disappointed we didn’t fuck?” I ask a bit callously, and Starsky jerks to look at me.

“No!”

“What are we, some kind of freak show to you?” I’m pissed. Starsky watched something private, and his reasons for doing so seem flimsy at best.

“I told you you’d be mad.” Starsky shrugs.

“Of course I’m mad! You spied on a private moment, and then you claim it was for curiosity’s sake. Shit, Starsk, can you blame me?” I struggle a moment and manage to stand up. My abdomen still hurts a lot. Starsky took me to the hospital this morning, and they said it’s healing well, but my muscles feel like they’re never going to get over the trauma.

Starsky clasps his hand on my arm and pulls me to him. “Hutch, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I know it was wrong. I wish I hadn’t done it, not only because you’re angry and it was wrong, but because of the way it made me feel.” Starsky’s eyes are at half-mast, a sure sign that he’s at high emotion.

“What, disgusted?”

“No. Jealous as hell.” Then Starsky pulls me to him, and his lips are suddenly on mine. I grunt, tilt my head, and kiss him back, my hands clasping his waist.

He holds me carefully, mindful of my injuries, as his lips caress my mouth. I let him do what he wants and don’t try to initiate more than he might be able to handle, even though I’m dying to pin him to the cushions--like I even could in my condition. His hands cup my face, and he doesn’t pull away, but continues kissing me until I swear I can feel down to my toes how much he loves me.

“Okay, I forgive you,” I whisper when there’s a breath of room between our lips.

Starsky runs his hand down the side of my face. “It feels nice, kissing you.”

I smile, and he kisses me again, tugging at my mustache with his teeth before tracing my lips with his tongue. I open my mouth eagerly to caress it with my own, my heart hammering in my chest. I can’t believe Starsky is kissing me. I am so full of love for him and so turned on, I feel faint. Wrapping my arms around him tightly, I wince when my muscles protest, but don’t let go. We are kissing pretty frantically now, and I wonder where Starsky wants to take this. I can feel his arousal on my thigh and nudge it a little with my hip. Starsky gasps and starts a new assault on my mouth.

“I love you,” I whisper, unable to help myself. “Starsk, I love you so much.” My hands slide up his back to his hair, where they latch onto the silky curls and tug so that I can move my lips down to his tanned throat, licking his skin, reveling in the taste of him. After a moment of this, he reaches up and pulls my arms down, taking a step back. He’s breathing hard.

“Hutch,” he finally says. “I don’t…I can’t…”

I bring my hands to my sides. “Okay.” I try not to look as disappointed as I feel, and probably fail.

He watches me. “I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. It was a dream come true.” I smile.

That makes him frown. He reaches out and strokes my mustache. “I liked it, Hutch. A lot.  I’m just afraid to take things too far.”

“I know, Buddy. It’s okay.  Really.”

When I go to bed that night, I lie there and think. Starsky’s on the couch. Maybe he thinks I’m going to try to seduce him if he sleeps with me, I don’t know. He helped me wash up before turning in tonight. I still can’t get into the shower, and Starsky’s been giving me sponge baths since I got out of the hospital. This is something we’ve done for one another due to injury so many times over the years that it’s old hat. Sometimes nature and circumstances cause the one getting the bath to show some interest below the waist. This happened several times when Starsky was laid up after the hit, and to defuse the awkward moment, I would quip, “Easy, there, Buddy, I’m unarmed!” and we’d both laugh about it. Of course, once my feelings started to change for Starsky, I found myself responding physically to his hard-ons with my own, but that was easy enough to conceal, and I still managed a joke or two to lighten the embarrassing moment.

I remember a time after I’d been pinned under the car in the canyon and released from the hospital sore all over and with my leg in a cast, Starsky bathed me and, to my mortification, I got an almost full erection. Starsky just grinned, said, “Down, boy,” and continued with the bath.

Oddly enough, now that my feelings have changed for him, I haven’t gotten one hard-on during the sponge baths Starsky's given me. Until tonight. I guess all the kissing just really revved my engine. I clenched my teeth, stared at the ceiling, and thought about my grandmother in her girdle; yet, still, my cock betrayed me. Starsky didn’t say anything, just kept up the efficient washing, although I thought he got it done a little faster than usual.

Now I lie in bed aching for him. I’m so hard, I could hit a baseball out of the park with my dick. I listen to Starsky’s breathing and think he might be asleep. I wait, and when I feel sure that he is, I slide my hand down underneath my shorts and grab hold of my throbbing member, remembering the feeling of his lips on mine and his tongue in my mouth. Gasping, I pull up, stropping it over and over until, with as quiet a whimper as I can manage, I come in my hand.

When my breathing quiets, I reach for a tissue from the box beside my bed and wipe my hands. I sigh and carefully roll onto my side, but it’s a long time until I fall asleep.

***

When I’m finally up doing most of my daily activities on my own, and my wound has only the briefest of bandages, I show Starsky around the ranger’s station, introducing him to a lot of the guys. Being Starsky, he makes friends fast. I’m a bit of a celebrity, having survived my brush with a bear, and I’m cajoled into showing my scars, which the doctor promises will fade with time. Right now they’re angry and red.

“You ever think about moving out here, Dave?” Paul, one of my fellow rangers, asks him.

Starsky’s eyes meet mine. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess it’s crossed my mind.”

“There’ll be a place opening up in October when Sweeney moves to Boston,” Lyle says from his desk in the corner where he’s trying to catch up on his paperwork. The rest of the rangers came inside when we arrived, eager to see how I’m doing. I’m afraid to say anything. There’s nothing I’d like more than for my best friend to be near me again, but I know Starsky’s confused, and I don’t want him to think I’m pushing. John is watching me from across the room, and I wonder what he’s thinking. It would only be human of him to hope Starsky doesn’t make the move here, but knowing John, he wants what’ll make me happy. He’s such a great guy, and it kills me to hurt him. But I’d be fooling myself to say that I wouldn’t leave him for Starsky in a heartbeat. Like John said, he’s known that from the get-go, but that doesn’t make it easier or right.

When we head outside, Starsky is quiet. We choose a nice, shady bench and sit down to talk. “Have you really considered moving here?” I ask him.

“Well, I certainly don’t wanna be a cop without you, Hutch. We had our run, but it’s time to let the younger guys take over.”  He looks out over the trees. “I dunno if I’m cut out for the wilderness, though.”

“It’s not really wilderness all the time. We have a wide variety of responsibilities, and we usually spread them out according to our individual taste. I’ve done quite a bit of the search and rescue. John works a lot with the wildfire crew. Paul and Lyle like holding the educational seminars for visitors, and we all do rounds of the campsites.” I shrug. “Some aspects of it are a lot like being a cop, but you’re outside more. I really enjoy it. At least, I do so far. But I’ve missed you, Starsk.” I look at him levelly. “I want you to know I won’t pressure you…I mean, about us. We can stay friends if that’s what you want, but I hate living without you in my life. You’ve been such a huge part of it for so long.”

Starsky smiles. “Same here.” He looks down at his hands a moment. “Well, sign me up, then. Who do I see about a job?”

I grin, my insides doing a little flip at the knowledge I wasn’t going to have to do without my best friend anymore. “We’ll go see Tim, my supervisor.”

***

By the end of the month, Starsky’s been promised the job, and I see him off at the airport to wrap things up in LA. I’m walking on cloud nine, and it shows. Several people at work comment on how happy I look. I try to brush it off, but it’s difficult when I feel so good.

A week after Starsky flies home to LA, John and I sit drinking wine out on his deck. We’ve been fucking for the past hour, so we’re naked, spread out on his cushioned lounger and looking up at the stars. I drain my glass and set it on the deck, then take John’s from him, drain it, and set it beside mine. Pulling him close, I kiss him thoroughly. “Are you ready for round two?” I ask.

“Are you kidding?” John laughs. “Well, aren’t you the stud.” He runs his hand down my chest, pausing at my navel and brushing his thumb over it, making me shiver. “Weren’t you the one that just had me on all fours in the living room?”

I kiss him again. “Yep.  And now I was thinking you might want me on all fours on the deck.”

John grins. It’s pretty secluded around his place, or I wouldn’t suggest it. He runs his hand down to my groin, toying with the hairs there. My cock reaches for him, and he grasps it, giving it a few gentle pumps. We continue kissing, our tongues playfully battling one another. Pretty soon we’re both groaning into each others mouths.

“God, Ken…”

“Mmmm…”

John pulls away. “I’m going to get something. Be right back. Get on your knees, mister.”

I raise my brows, but obey, getting down on the deck with my ass up in the air. John’s quickly back and kneeling behind me. I hear the sound of his cock being oiled up, then feel his fingers on me, rubbing in circles, and then entering me. I moan low in my throat as he thrusts two in and then pulls them out, again and again, stroking my prostate and making me squirm.

“That’s it, beautiful man,” he murmurs. “Are you ready for it?”

I lift my ass higher in answer, and John withdraws his fingers, replacing them with his long, smooth shaft. He starts pumping, quickly finding a rhythm, and I can’t help myself, I cry out—the sensations he’s triggering are so exquisite. He raises a knee, putting his weight on one foot, and changes the direction of his thrust, and I have to stifle a shout as a wave of pleasure overwhelms me.

John grasps my hips with oily hands and pulls me into his every thrust, taking me higher, muttering encouragement mingled with words of passion. I’m doubled over like I’m praying to a god, my forehead to the wooden deck as he nails me. I can feel the soft tip of his dick inside of me, hitting just behind my nuts, electrifying me from the inside.

“Uh…ah!” I call out, nearing the peak, and John starts panting, shoving himself into me with abandon until I hear him grunting and feel his body shuddering with release. An oily hand wraps around me, pulling my body upright, and with his dick still inside me, John milks my cock until I’m choking on my cries and coming, hard, for the second time that night.

Boneless, we wipe ourselves off and climb into the hot tub, sinking down low and wallowing in post-coital bliss. We don’t turn the sauna on, so we can hear the night sounds around us.

“Ken,” John says a few minutes later.  “I’m falling in love with you.” He says it so sadly that I feel sad, too.

“I really care about you,” I tell him. “I hope you know that.”

John licks his lips and looks away, out over the dark mountains. “I’m thinking I should back out of this relationship. I know that sounds crazy after what we just did…what we just experienced together. But Ken,” he looks at me again. “I’m falling for you. I can’t help it, and it’s going to hurt like hell when you leave me.”

“Who says I’m going to leave?” I whisper.

John’s face goes soft, as though he pities me my naiveté. I look into his gray-blue eyes fringed by black lashes, his eyebrows dark slashes above them, and see the love there. “You are, Ken. You are. It’s only a matter of time. Dave’s moving here, and we both know why. He loves you—anyone with eyes can see it. He’s just scared, and he’ll work his way through that. You both will, together. And I’ll be left to watch. I can’t handle that. I’m going to transfer to another park.”

Shocked, I push through the water toward him, moving to sit on the seat adjacent to his. “John…”

“No, Ken. Please don’t make this harder for me. Can you deny that you’ll choose Dave over me if he’s willing?”

I look down.

“I thought as much.” He reaches for me and kisses me longingly. “I want you to know that I love you. I really do. Forget the ‘falling’ part…I fell a long time ago. Probably the minute I saw you.” He’s whispering the words into my mouth, and I kiss him back, trying to give him something of myself. His hands run through my hair, as he continues talking between kisses. “You’re beautiful, and if I could, I’d live with you. Make love to you every night and every morning. We’d go for long hikes and make love on mountaintops while the sun rises. We’d bathe in rivers, and at night I’d feast on you under the moonlight.” I can both feel and taste his warm tears. “That’s my dream, Ken, but that’s all it is…a dream. You don’t love me, and you never will. Better to end it now.” He pulls back and looks at me. “I’ve already spoken to Tim about a transfer, and he’s working on it. I’ve been undecided, but now I’ve made up my mind.  I’m putting this house on the market, but I want to ask you something before I do it. Would you like to rent it from me?”

I’m so caught up in his emotion, and the sadness I feel at the thought of him going, that I spend a moment just staring at him, uncomprehending.  “John, are you sure you want to leave? I…” I don’t know what to say. _Stay, until I know what Starsky wants?_ That wouldn’t be fair to him. I know it’s only right that I let him go.

“I _have_ to leave. If I want to stay sane, Ken, I have to. Please understand. I can’t stay here and watch the two of you together.”

“I understand.”  
  
“Do you want to rent the place?”

“Are you sure you want me to?”

John nods. “I’d rather do that than sell it, and I know you’ll take good care of it. Besides, you don’t have enough room in that little cabin. Not if Dave lives with you, and I know he will.”

“But…we have so many memories here. I don’t know if I—“ I stop, overcome. John moves in and wraps his arms around me. He kisses my head. “It’ll be okay. You’re going to find a lot of happiness, and I’ll find mine, too. Someday.”

I hold him for a long time before we go inside. We make love in his bed until morning, when I leave with a heavy heart.

***

Two weeks later John is gone. He transfers to Wyoming, where his brother lives. Our parting is brief and friendly; we’ve already said our emotional goodbyes. I hike to the chimneys that weekend and make camp at the base, thinking about how we started. I really do care for John. I could love him if there was no David Starsky.

I haven’t told Starsky about John leaving. I speak to him every few days, and he updates me on his progress. Putting his notice in at Metro, letting his landlord know he’s leaving, packing up his things, transferring his banking accounts. Finally, he’s ready to move.

I wait eagerly the night that he’s expected. He’s driven a U-haul loaded with his stuff across country, and I’ve directed him to John’s house. When he gets out of the truck, I can’t help myself: I run to him and hug him tightly, lifting him off his feet. Laughing, he hugs me back. Arms around one another, we walk into the house. Starsky looks around. “Nice digs. Where’s John?"

“Have a seat,” I indicate the chair that I brought from my cabin and get him a cold beer. When he’s comfortable, I sit across from him and say, “John doesn’t live here anymore. I do.”

“Huh?” Signs of confusion join the lines of weariness on Starsky’s face.

“John’s moved to Wyoming, where he has a brother. He’s renting me this house.”

Starsky leans forward and puts his beer on the oak table. “I’m sorry, Hutch. How come you broke up?”

“He didn’t see a future for us.” I meet Starsky’s eyes. “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, Starsk. I meant what I said when I told you I wouldn’t push you. But John’s known where my heart lies from the start, and he couldn’t face staying with me when he knows I can never love him back.”

Starsky nods. “I see.”

“Do you? Because I’m not saying I’m expecting us to get together. I know you aren’t sure about your own feelings. But Starsk, we’re friends. I want to be with you, and I could use a housemate. There’re two bedrooms upstairs.” I smile hopefully. “Buddy, what do you say?”

Starsky hesitates. “Hutch, I’m scared,” he finally admits. He’s jiggling the foot he’s got propped on his knee and looking down at his fidgeting fingers.

“I know you are, Pal. I know. I swear I’m never going to do anything to mess up our friendship. If you ever want more from me, you’re going to have to instigate it.”

“I’m not afraid you’re gonna rape me in my sleep, Hutch,” Starsky says derisively. “I just – I dunno.” He rubs his face agitatedly. “I wanna be with you, _that way_ , so bad sometimes. Other times I’m afraid if I do, I’ll miss women, and then I’ll end up hurting you. And I’m scared to death to take that step. Scared of what it’ll feel like…that it’ll be too _good_ , you know? And what that’ll mean about me. Who’m I anymore?”

“We’re the same people we’ve always been. We’ve always loved each other, Starsky. Is it really going to be all that different if we show each other how much?”

He thinks this over while I go into the kitchen and finish preparing dinner. We sit down at the spacious kitchen table to the feast: corn on the cob, sweet potatoes, corn bread, pinto beans, and cole slaw. I’ve also made ice tea.

“Mmm,” Starsky mumbles appreciatively around his corn. “A good ole’ southern meal, huh?”

I grin around my bite of potatoes. “Yep. And we can play a game of checkers after. I’m officially challenging you to a tournament.”

“So long as I get red,” Starsky says, taking another bite of corn. “God, this is good.”

“Eat as much as you want,” I tell him, digging into my beans. “Oh, and try this.” I open a jar and spoon some onto Starsky’s beans.

“What’s that?” he asks, looking at it. “Relish?”

“Sort of. It’s called Chow-Chow. Everybody eats it here. Oh! And I bought a box of Moon Pies! You’re gonna love them.”

“I think I’m in heaven!” Starsky grins.

“Starsk, you have corn in your teeth.” I laugh.

Starsky starts feeling around with his tongue. “What about unpacking the U-haul?”

“Let’s save that for tomorrow,” I take a long drink of my tea. “You’ve got a bag in the front seat, right? With your overnight stuff?”

Starsky nods.

“I’ll get it after we eat.”

Our dinner conversation turns to Dobey, Huggy, and other friends. Starsky fills me in on what’s been going on with them. I’m surprised and pleased to hear that Minnie recently got married. “And she sends her love,” Starsky tells me.

“I miss her,” I say. “And Dobey and Huggy.”

“They miss you, too, Hutch,” Starsky says. “Huggy’s rented your place out to a real nice guy who owns a shop near Venice Beach. He’s taking good care of it.”

I’m glad to hear that. I’d bought the building as an investment a couple of years ago with money my grandfather left me. The rent from Chez Helene had accumulated a nice nest egg that I’ve had to dip in a few times during emergencies, which included some expenses Starsky incurred after he was released from the hospital. He’d tried to refuse the help, but I’d quickly pointed out that he’d do the same for me were the situations reversed. I was so happy to have that money to help him.

After we do the dishes and I bring his bag in, we play a couple of games of checkers in which I allow Starsky to win, careful not to let him know I’m doing it. His childlike happiness at beating the pants off me is all I want to see, and I have to remind myself not to stare at him too long, or he’ll see right through me.

Around ten o’clock, Starsky begins yawning.

“You’ve had a long trip, Buddy. Let me show you your bedroom.” I lead him upstairs where his room is across the hall from mine. The house is spacious, and Starsky’s room, although smaller than mine, has a nice balcony that looks over a pond. John has taken most of his furniture, but he left me his big bed and the hot tub. This room won’t have a bed until we put Starsky’s in it because I sold mine, knowing Starsky would want to use his own.  I tell him he can have mine for tonight, and I’ll take the sofa.

“That’s ridiculous for you to sleep on the couch. We can sleep together, like we’ve done hundreds of times.” Starsky scoffs. I agree, glad that things haven’t gotten weird between us.

“A flock of ducks like to hang around this pond,” I tell him, pointing out the window. “Hope they don’t wake you in the mornings.”

“Aw, you know I sleep like the dead,” Starsky says, throwing his bag on a chair and opening it.

“Bathroom’s down the hall. We have to share it,” I say. “I’m going downstairs for a bit. You’ll probably be asleep when I come up. Goodnight.”

I leave him and descend to the first floor. Tonight’s been the best night I’ve had in a long time. I’m so happy, I’m practically floating. I’ve taken the rest of the week off work, a feat I accomplished by promising to work Thanksgiving and Christmas for Paul, and the next five Saturdays for Lyle, which is why I won’t have any time off for a while. When I start back, it’ll be Starsky’s first day of training. Whistling a tune, I straighten up the living room, putting the checkers away on a shelf. Then I sweep the kitchen floor and put chemicals in the hot tub. The moon is white, fat, and full, and I spend a long time staring up at it, admiring the way it stands out in the black velvet sky and how the stars look like chips of it that have blown off and scattered. I remember nights on this deck with John, and I miss him. He was a good friend to me, and he taught me a lot about physically loving a man. I sincerely hope he finds someone that can return his feelings in full. He deserves that and more.

It occurs to me that John did for me what I tried to do for Starsky, only in a more honest, loving way. He left me so that I could be with the person I love. Only he faced me and told me the truth, making me accept it before he took action. That’s what I should have done with Starsky, and we all would’ve been spared a lot of pain, including Sheila.

Around midnight, I head upstairs, undressing in the dark and slipping into bed beside Starsky. I listen to him breathing for a long time, feeling the warmth radiating off his body, before falling asleep.

***

The next few days are spent moving Starsky in. Between his stuff and mine, we manage to fill the house up, although it looks a little hodge-podge. As two bachelors, it hardly matters. In the evenings, I show him around the little town of Gatlinburg. We hit a few bars and peruse the touristy shops. We take the sky lift up to the ice rink and ice skate for hours. I’m pretty good at it, being from Minnesota, but Starsky’s more used to roller skates. He does okay, though, and soon we’re racing all over the rink like kids. When it gets to the point that I’m afraid we’ll be kicked out if we don’t leave, I call a halt, and we return our skates. Just as he did on the way up, Starsky refuses to open his eyes on the way down. He’s never been one for heights, and I press my side against his back in the cable car, giving him reassurance. At one point, there’s a jolt, and I grasp his hips, my groin pressed dead-center in the crack of his ass. I feel myself growing hard and take a small step back, but Starsky follows, his deliciously rounded ass teasing me for the rest of the ride. My breath has caught in my throat and I’m having trouble thinking straight. Thank God for the darkness, because I’m hard as granite and our position is pretty suggestive. The ride seems to go on forever with my cock throbbing against him. I wonder how he’s taking it. I also wonder why he’s teasing me like this. God, I want to wrap my arms around him and nuzzle his neck, suck on his earlobe. Why are there so many people in this damn cable car? But even if we were completely alone, I’d told Starsky that he’d have to initiate things, so I am stuck impotently standing here getting blue balls inside my jeans.

The interminable ride finally over, we leave the car. I know I’m walking funny, but try to make the best of it. Starsky doesn’t seem to be paying a whole lot of attention to me. He stops to look in the window of a store that sells mostly black bear-related items. Given my brush with death with the species, I’m less than enthusiastic about the window display. I try to make conversation, though, by pointing out an ugly chair that would make one sitting on it look as though they’re sitting on the bear’s lap, and tell him we need to get it for Huggy. That’s when I realize that Starsky isn’t really seeing anything in the window, but rather seems to be getting himself together.

“Starsk?” I ask softly, and he turns to me. The desire in his eyes almost topples me off the curb.

“Let’s go home, Hutch,” he says pointedly, and my softening erection does an about face. We turn as one and head for the motorbike. I bought one when I moved here because John showed me how much easier it is to get around on them. Starsky settles in behind me, his groin to my ass and his hands wrapped around my waist. Heart in my throat, I roar away from the curb.

When we reach the house, I drop my keys twice in the dark. _Holy fuck!_ I think as I feel around for them the second time on the gritty front porch.

“Hurry, Hutch,” Starsky’s voice is gravelly and sends pulsations of lust through my groin.

“I can’t find it! Where the fuck is it?” I’m freaking out.

“Stand up,” Starsky orders and I do, watching as he gets on his knees and praying he’ll have better luck. But he doesn’t begin searching. Instead, he unbuttons my jeans and pulls them down. My eyes widen, and I look around in the darkness. The house is set away from the road and there’s nobody around. I bite my lip, afraid to say anything as Starsky begins petting my cock. I don’t know what he’s going to do. If it had been John, I would’ve known for certain that he was ready to take me in his mouth, but is Starsky ready for that?

Apparently he is, because that’s exactly what he does. He’s uncertain at first, tentatively tasting and moving his tongue against the smooth underside, slowly driving me insane. My head goes back and I almost crack it on the brick, but any pain from that maneuver quickly dissipates under Starsky’s assault on my dick.

“Oh, God, Starsky…” I moan, and he doubles his effort, beginning to nurse on me like a hungry infant. I’m going to blow, and I tell him so. He moves off me, and fondles my nuts as I shoot my load, dripping it all over his hand and the porch. “Oh, shit, Buddy, that was fantastic,” I sigh, pulling my jeans and underwear back up. Starsky grins bashfully, and I help him to stand. We find the key, which fell off the porch and onto the grass.

Inside the house, I reach for him, but he turns away. “Starsk, I-I…let me touch you. Please?” Every fiber in my being is reaching for him, but I wait.

Finally, I take his silence for acquiescence and move toward him, wrapping my arms around his middle, my groin against his ass. He sighs, relaxes, and I fumble at his jeans, my fingers clumsy as they move inside his briefs and grasp his sex. Starsky sucks in a breath and leans his head back on my shoulder as I fondle him, bringing his already hardening prick to a full erection. I reach my hand back, lick it, and bring it back to his prick. I repeat the action with the other hand, and soon I’m beating him off, and he’s crying out my name as he comes.

As he recovers from his intense orgasm, Starsky seems uncomfortable. I can feel his guilt and uncertainty in the room with us as if they were living beings. My heart sinks, but I hide behind a veil of normalcy, reverting back to the well-known grooves of friendship, and soon he’s relaxing and I’m breathing an inner sigh of relief. We eat sandwiches for dinner, discuss baseball, and then Starsky heads to bed. Tomorrow is his first day of training.

I stay awake for a long time wondering if we just took a step forward or a step back.

***

Starsky is kept busy and exhausted for the next two weeks. I remember what training is like—getting muscles used to moving in ways they’ve never been moved before—plus, it’s still pretty hot, even though it’s October, which makes it all worse. I give him his space. We talk and laugh during dinner, and I surprise him with a television set that I bought one day after work. We spend most evenings watching it until he inevitably falls asleep on the couch. I always wake him for bed, and we part ways in the upstairs hallway.

Starsky never mentions what happened the night of the ice skating. I see him flirting outrageously with the female rangers. I do my own share of flirting to keep pretenses up, but Starsky seems to be out to prove something. This is why I’m not very surprised to come home from work one Saturday to find him with female company.

“Hutch! Hey, Buddy. How was work?” Starsky asks. He’s reclining on the couch with a beer in one hand and a handful of a buxom brunette in the other. “This is Candy, and boy is she sweet.” He kisses Candy’s neck. She’s running her long, red fingernails over his groin area, not even trying to hide the fact from me. In fact her brown eyes are pinned to my dick.

“Hi, Candy,” I say, putting my keys on the side table. “Got anything for dinner, Starsk?” I ask, moving toward the kitchen.

“We ordered pizza. Saved you some.” I head that way, hearing Starsky and Candy talking and laughing as I get a plate and a beer. Candy’s laugh is high and a little annoying. I chew my pizza while standing at the sink staring out the window at the dark mountains.

“Sure, honey,” I hear Starsky say. I hear them go out onto the deck, and risk a peek. They’re peeling off their clothes and climbing into the hot tub. Candy’s breasts are very large, with pink, erect nipples. Her ass is small and pert, just like Starsky usually prefers.  I lean against the counter and watch them sink into the water. They begin to kiss. This is where I have to leave. I walk into the dining room, heading for the stairs, when I hear Starsky calling out to me.

Turning, I walk to the door. “Yeah,” I say, trying not to sound as wounded as I feel.

“Uh, I promised Candy I’d ask ya…”

Candy giggles obnoxiously, her large breasts floating on the surface.

I raise a brow, purposely not making things any easier on him, for I’m pretty sure I know what’s coming.

“Well,” he clears his throat. “She’s always wanted to try a three-way.”

There it is. I’d suspected as much, but now that he’s said it, I still feel surprised. We’ve done it before, but it’s been many years ago. The fact that he’s asking me now seems to be flaunting his need to be with a woman in my face. I tamp my anger down, deciding I’m not going to go hide in my room.

“What the hell,” I say, shocking him. A wide smile spreads over Candy’s face as I come out on the deck and start removing my uniform.

“See, Davey? I told you it was worth asking." She spreads her arms and her legs when I enter the tub, and I move into them, kissing her pliant mouth with as much enthusiasm as I can muster under the circumstances. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been with a female, and the differences are stark. I decide I don’t miss it, even as Candy does her best to arouse me. I lie back, allowing her to work me with her hand, but it isn’t until I meet Starsky’s smoky gaze that I begin to harden. He seems intent on proving something, whether to himself or to me or to the girl between us, I don’t know. He moves forward and kneels behind Candy, who is now running her tongue over my neck. I sense the moment when he enters her, and as she moves her head back with a moan, I send my tongue into her mouth. When I finally stop kissing her, I see Starsky’s eyes pinned to me. He has her by the hips and he’s rocking her back and forth. I put my hands up and grab hold of her breasts, squeezing them rhythmically as her cries grow louder. I wonder if the distant neighbors can hear. Oh well, it only helps my cover. As Starsky continues to pump into her, his eyes seem to be saying to me, _This is what I need. This is what I’m made for. This. This. This._

I stare back at him, my fingers twisting Candy’s pink nipples mercilessly. Her hands are on my shoulders, holding on while Starsky pounds into her. “Oh, Dave! Fuck, yeah!” she sounds exactly like a porno movie, whimpering and panting on cue. I wonder if she practices in front of a mirror.

Starsky closes his eyes as he releases into her, and I hope to God he made sure she’s on the pill and free of s.t.d.’s. She collapses onto me, and I encircle her in my arms, feeling badly about abusing her breasts. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, because she raises her head and smiles, kissing me affectionately.

“It’s your turn, Cowboy,” she giggles, and swivels around on my lap. Starsky makes a move to leave, but she grabs him. “I wanna play with you while he’s screwing me, baby,” she tells him as she skillfully slides onto my prick. She begins to bounce, and I give myself over to the feeling, closing my eyes as her plush insides squeeze around me. I lift her and pull out before coming, even though I’m releasing myself into the water, which is pretty disgusting, but it’s not like it hasn’t happened before. I’ll just clean the tub thoroughly tomorrow. Starsky helps Candy out of the tub and I watch them go inside. I wait twenty minutes or more, leaning my head back and looking at the stars, until I climb out, dress, and follow. I’m surprised to find Starsky at the kitchen table.

“Thought you and Candy would be in bed,” I say, moving to the refrigerator and pouring a glass of milk. I snag a package of chocolate chip cookies from the cabinet.

“She went partying. Some friends picked her up.”

I raise a brow. “And you didn’t go with them?”

“Wasn’t in the mood,” Starsky says shortly. After a moment he adds, “I didn’t think you’d go for that out there.”

“Oh, yeah? Why not?”

Starsky shrugs. “Thought you were gay now.”

I sigh. “Starsk, I’m bi-sexual, not gay. Women can still turn me on, although I admit, looking at you naked was doing more for me than Candy was. It’s you I love.”

Starsky’s eyes meet mine, and they soften. “I love you, too, Hutch. You know I do. I just didn’t like seeing you with her.”

My eyes widen. “You suggested it.” I sit across from him at the table and pass the cookies to him.

“I know, I know. But like I said…I didn’t think you’d go for it. It was all her idea.”

“I figured you were throwing it in my face that you were with her,” I say, watching him bite into a cookie.

Starsky frowns. “You really think I want to hurt you?” He reaches his hand across the table and takes mine. “I’m sorry, Hutch. I’m just really confused right now.”

I squeeze his hand. “I know you are.”

“It seems like it’s been so easy for you.”

“Not easy. But I’ve been thinking about it for so long, I’m used to it. Give it time, Buddy. You’ll decide what you want.” I watch him fondly as he enjoys his cookie and then finishes off my milk.

“I’m going to bed,” I tell him. “Sleep tight.” I rise and go upstairs. After I’ve been there a while, Starsky appears at my doorway, a shadow in the dark.

“Hutch—do ya mind if I sleep with you tonight? I mean, just sleep?”

“Of course not,” I tell him, pleased. I scoot over, and he slides in, spooning up behind me. In the warm comfort of his arms, I fall asleep.

***

This seems to be a turning point in our relationship. Every few nights, Starsky crawls into bed with me and holds me while we sleep. We both enjoy this closeness so much, it becomes habit. Sometimes we lie there and talk.

“I’ve been thinking,” Starsky tells me one evening soon after we’ve gotten into bed. “I bet Sheila sent that invitation to you.”

“Why would she do that?” I ask, perplexed.

“I think she knew how I felt about you. I never told her, but I think she knew you were the reason I called the wedding off. I think she did it outta spite.”

I think about that. Jealousy has made people do worse. I snuggle into Starsky and wait for him to say more, but he’s fallen asleep.

The evening we had with Candy seems to wipe some of the doubts from Starsky’s mind. Seeing me enjoying myself with a woman evidently brought back the aspect of myself that Starsky had thought was missing: I am still the virile man he’s always known, even if I do prefer men now. And perhaps that’s allowed him to process his own feelings, because one night a couple of weeks later, as he’s spooned against me in the dark, I feel his arousal against my ass. I don’t say anything, just lie there contemplating it. He moves against me, a little gasp escaping his mouth. His hand comes up to my hair and strokes it off my neck. He kisses me on the tender spot just below my ear. I grunt agreeably and shift so that my ass rubs his groin. Again the little gasp.

Starsky’s hand moves down to my waist and then under the waist band of my shorts, caressing the skin of my hip. I don’t know how far he wants to go with this, so I just wait, my dick hardening.

“Oh, babe,” he breathes. “I can’t help it…I want you.” His hand slides down and grasps me. He runs his rough palm over my shaft, his breathing accelerating in my ear. I can’t help but thrust into his hand. His long, nimble fingers tickle my sac, tingles of delicious pleasure running through me. He tugs my pants down to my knees and fiddles with his own shorts. Soon his hot sex is pressed against my crack and I jerk backward, wanting more.

“I-I don’t know what to do,” Starsky’s voice is uncertain.

“What do you want to do?” I ask him.

“I want to make love to you…somehow. Help me, Hutch.”

It’s all I need to hear. Rolling over, I kick my shorts all the way off to join his at the bottom of the bed. Pulling him on top of me, an achingly familiar bundle in my arms, I kiss him, nestling our cocks between us. I begin to move, and they rub together, the friction quickly making us crazy. Starsky is devouring my mouth with his tongue. I feel it run a warm path across the roof of it and follow it with my own. He’s moving on top of me, grunting and groaning, and I run my hands over his back and down to his ass, squeezing the cheeks. He feels so good under my hands; I’m heady with desire. He cries out several times as our cocks slide along one another, driving me crazy with the sound of his passion. Before long, we’re coming all over ourselves, still kissing languorously. I hold onto him, loving the feel of his body against mine.

Starsky finally pulls back and collapses to the side, his arms still wrapped around me. He doesn’t act strangely as he has in the past, and I wonder if this really is the beginning for us. He leans closer and kisses me again, lovingly, stroking my mustache with his thumb before falling into a deep sleep, his head on my pillow. I watch him for a long time, feeling all the pieces of my life click together.

 

_finis_


End file.
